AGNES  G I  BERNE 


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IVom  a  IHioKx^Kiph  taken  at  Toronto  in  1875. 


A     LADY     OF     ENGLAND 


THE   LIFE    AND   LETTERS 


OF 


CHARLOTTE     MARIA    TUCKER 


BY 


AGN  ES     GIBERNE 

K 

AUTHOR  OF  'sun,  MOON,  AND  STARS,'  'RADIANT  SUNS,'  ETC. 


''Nil    desperandum'' 

Motto  of  the  Tucker  Family 


NEW    YORK 
A.    C    ARMSTRONG    &    SON 

51    EAST   TENTH    STREET 
1895 


•  -• 


Y  MOBMie  STELPHSlia 


Edinburgh :  T.  and  A.  Constable,  Printers  to  Her  Majesty 


AUTHOR'S    PREFACE 

The  principal  mass  of  materials  for  this  Biography  was 
placed  in  my  hands  last  summer  by  the  Rev.  W.  F.  Tucker 
Hamilton,  nephew  of  Charlotte  Maria  Tucker  (A.  L.  O.  E.), 
and  since  then  many  other  relatives  or  friends,  both  in 
England  and  in  India,  have  contributed  their  share  of 
help,  either  in  the  way  of  written  recollections  or  of  corre- 
spondence. A  paucity  of  materials  exists  as  to  the  early 
part  of  the  life  ;  but  in  later  years  the  difficulty  is  of  a 
precisely  opposite  description,  arising  from  a  super- 
abundance of  details.  Hundreds  of  letters,  more  or  less 
interesting  in  themselves,  have  had  to  be  put  ruthlessly 
aside,  to  make  room  for  others  of  greater  interest.  From 
first  to  last  the  long  series  between  Charlotte  Tucker 
and  her  own  especial  sister-friend,  Mrs.  Hamilton,  takes 
precedence  of  all  other  letters  in  point  of  freedom,  natural- 
ness, and  simplicity.  The  perfect  trust  and  unshadowed 
devotion  which  subsisted  between  these  two  form  a  rare 
and  beautiful  picture. 

It  has  seemed  to  me,  and  it  may  seem  to  others,  that 
the  main  question  in  the  Life  of  Miss  Tucker  is,  not  so 

5 13 05 7 


iv   '  A  UTHORS  PRE  FA  CE 

much  what  she  did  here  or  there,  in  England  or  in  India, 
as  what  she  was.  Many  a  discussion  has  taken  place,  and 
doubtless  will  again  take  place,  as  to  the  wisdom  of  her 
modes  of  Missionary  work,  and  as  to  the  degree  of  success 
or  non-success  which  attended  her  labours.  I  have 
endeavoured  to  give  fairly  certain  opposite  views  upon  this 
question,  even  while  strongly  impressed  with  the  convic- 
tion that  no  human  being  is  capable  of  judging  with 
respect  to  the  worth  of  work  done  in  his  own  age  and 
generation.  Subtle  consequences,  working  below  the  sur- 
face, are  often  far  more  weighty,  far  more  lasting,  than  the 
most  approved  '  results '  following  immediately  upon 
certain  efforts, — results  which  are,  not  seldom,  found  after 
a  while  to  be  of  the  nature  of  mere  froth.  Nothing  can  be 
more  unprofitable,  usually,  than  the  task  of  endeavouring 
to  *  count  conversions.'  It  is  of  infinitely  greater  import- 
ance to  note  with  what  absolute  self-devotion  Miss  Tucker 
entered  into  the  toil,  with  what  resolution  she  persevered 
in  the  face  of  obstacles,  with  what  eagerness  she  did  the 
very  utmost  within  her  power. 

In  writing  the  story  of  Miss  Tucker's  life  at  Batala,  it 
has  been  impossible  not  to  write  also,  in  some  degree,  the 
story  of  the  Infant  Church  at  Batala.  My  main  object 
has  of  course  been  simply  to  show  what  Charlotte  Maria 
Tucker  herself  was  ;  and  Mission  work.  Mission  incidents. 
Missionaries  themselves,  come  in  merely  incidentally,  as 


AUTHORS  PREFACE  ^  v 

part  of  the  background  to  her  figure.  Mention  of  them 
is  accidental  and  fragmentary;  not  systematic.  At  the 
same  time  there  is  no  doubt  that  nothing  would  have 
gratified  Miss  Tucker  more  than  that  any  use  should  have 
been  made  of  her  letters  likely  to  help  forward  the  great 
work  of  Missions  among  the  Heathen.  Some  years 
before  the  end,  when  in  severe  illness  she  thought  herself 
to  be  passing  away,  she  spoke  of  the  possibility  that  her 
long  correspondence  about  Batala  might  be  so  employed, 
and  earnestly  hoped  that,  if  it  were  so,  no  one-sided 
account  should  be  given,  but  that  shadow  as  well  as  sun- 
shine, the  dark  as  well  as  the  bright  aspect,  should  be 
frankly  presented.  I  have  endeavoured  to  carry  out  her 
wishes  in  this  particular. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  at  least  a  few  letters  from 
Mrs.  Hamilton  to  Miss  Tucker  cannot  be  interspersed 
among  the  many  from  Miss  Tucker  to  Mrs.  Hamilton. 
None,  however,  have  come  to  hand.  Before  Miss  Tucker 
went  to  India  she  destroyed  the  bulk  of  her  papers, 
after  a  ruthless  fashion;  and  it  does  not  appear  that 
while  in  India  she  kept  any  of  the  letters  that  she 
received. 

After  some  hesitation  I  have  decided  to  give  generally 
the  names  in  full  of  those  Missionaries,  with  whom  she 
was  most  closely  associated.  I  have  also  decided  7iot 
to  give  the  names   of  Indian   Christians,  with  very  few 


vi  A  UTHORS  PRE  FA  CE 

exceptions, — as  of  the  Head  Master  of  the  Native  Boys' 
School  at  Batala,  whom  she  counted  a  personal  friend ; 
also  of  one  or  two  Ordained  Native  Clergymen,  and  one 
or  two  contributors  of  slight  material  towards  this  Life. 
In  many  instances  it  would  be  very  difficult  to  decide 
wisely  at  so  great  a  distance,  and  without  a  knowledge  of 
the  individuals  themselves.  It  is  therefore  best  to  be  on 
the  safe  side.  Many  of  the  initials  are  the  true  initials  ; 
but  many  are  not  even  that, — especially  in  the  case  of 
those  who  are  still  Heathen  or  Muhammadan. 

In  the  spelling  of  Indian  words  and  names  I  have 
endeavoured  to  follow  mainly  the  more  modern  plan, 
adopted  of  late  years,  except  in  the  case  of  a  very  few 
words  which  are  practically  Anglicised.  Miss  Tucker's 
own  spelling  of  Indian  words  and  names  varies  extremely ; 
the  word  being  often  given  differently  when  occurring 
twice  in  a  single  page.  The  spelling  has  therefore  been 
altered  throughout  her  correspondence.  To  avoid  con- 
fusion in  the  minds  of  English  readers,  I  have  also  taken 
the  same  liberty  with  letters  from  some  others  who  have 
not  adopted  the  modern  mode. 

In  conclusion,  I  have  only  to  express  my  sincere  thanks 
for  the  most  kind  trouble  taken  by  many  friends  of 
A.  L.  O.  E.  in  contributing  materials  for  my  guidance. 

AGNES   GIBERNE. 
WoRTON  House,  Eastbourne. 


PREFACE 

It  would  scarcely  be  fitting  that  this  Volume  should  go 
forth  to  the  Public  without  a  few  words  of  Preface  from 
one  of  A.  L.  O.  E.'s  own  family. 

Only  my  beloved  Mother — the  *  Laura '  of  these  pages 
— could  have  penned  the  words  which  should  adequately 
tell  all  that  my  dear  Aunt  was  to  those  who  knew  her 
best  and  loved  her  most  fondly.  And  she,  little  as  she 
had  expected  it,  was  the  first  of  the  two  to  be  called 
Home. 

It  has,  however,  been  a  great  satisfaction  to  me  to 
intrust  the  preparation  of  the  Life  to  Miss  Giberne ; 
and  I  am  glad  to  have  this  opportunity  of  expressing 
my  hearty  appreciation  of  the  literary  skill,  the  sympathy, 
and  the  fidelity  to  truth  with  which  she  has  accomplished 
her  task. 

Averse  as  my  Aunt  ever  was  to  any  fuss  being  made 
about  her,  nothing  would  have  reconciled  her  to  the 
publication  of  a  Biography,  save  the  hope  that  its  story 
might  be  used  of  God  to  stimulate  others  to  consecrate 
their  lives  to  the  Service  of  Christ,  whether  in  the  Foreign 


viii  PREFACE 

or  Home  Mission  Field.  It  is  in  such  hope  that  it  is 
now  sent  forth,  with  the  earnest  prayer  that  His  blessing 
may  rest  upon  it. 

W.  F.  TUCKER  HAMILTON. 

Christ  Church,  Woking. 


Note. — Any  profits  derived  by  A.  L.  O.  E.'s 
relatives  from  the  publication  of  this  volume  will 
be  apportioned  among  those  Missionary  Societies 
in  which  she  was  especially  interested. 


V 


0 


CONTENTS 

PART  I 
LIFE  IN  ENGLAND 

CHAPTER   I 

PAGE 

THE  STORY   OF   HER   FATHER    .  ....  3 

CHAPTER   II 

CHILDHOOD  AND   GIRLHOOD      .  .  .  .  .13 

CHAPTER   III, 

EARLY  WRITINGS  ......  27 

CHAPTER   IV 

A  *  FARCE '   OF   GIRLISH   DAYS    .  .  .  .  -39 

CHAPTER   V 

HOME   LIFE  :...-...  62 

CHAPTER   VI 

GRAVITY  AND   FUN  .  .  .  .  .  .  71 

CHAPTER   VII 

THE   FIRST  GREAT   SORROW,   AND   THE    FIRST   BOOK  .  83 

t 

CHAPTER   VIII 

CRIMEA,   AND   THE   INDIAN   MUTINY      ....  lOO 


X  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   IX 

.      •  PAGE 

LIFE'S   EARLY  AFTERNOON  .  .  .  .  .  112 

CHAPTER   X 

A   HEAVY   SHADOW  .  .  .  .  .  .126 

CHAPTER   XI 

GIVING  COMFORT  TO   OTHERS  .....  I37 

CHAPTER   XII 

THE  OLD  HOME  BROKEN  UP  .      .      .      .      .     146 

CHAPTER   XIII 

VARIOUS   CHARACTERISTICS        .  .  .  .  159 

CHAPTER   XIV 

AN   UNEXPECTED  RESOLVE  .  -173 

CHAPTER   XV 

BESIDE  NIAGARA  .  .  .  .  .  .  184 


PART    II 

LIFE  IN  INDIA 
CHAPTER    I 

FIRST  ARRIVAL   IN    INDIA  .....  I97 

CHAPTER   II 

A  HOME   IN   AMRITSAR   ......  209 


CONTENTS  xi 

CHAPTER   III 

.      .  PAGE 

CURIOUS    WAYS     .  .         ■       .  .  .  .  .  224 

CHAPTER   IV 

A  PALACE  FOR  A   HOME  .  .  .  ,  .  239 

CHAPTER   V 

DISAPPOINTMENTS  AND  DELAYS  ....  253 

CHAPTER   VI 

A   BROWN   AND   WHITE   'HAPPY   FAMILY'  .  .  .267 

CHAPTER   VII 

PERSECUTIONS     .......  282 

CHAPTER   VIII 

EARLY  CHRISTIAN   DAYS   IN   THE  NINETEENTH   CENTURY    .  299 

CHAPTER   IX 

THE  CHURCH   AT   BATALA  .  .  .  .  .  318 

CHAPTER   X 

LOYAL  AND  TRUE  .  .  .  •  '•  -331 

CHAPTER   XI 

CLOUDS  AFTER  SUNSHINE     .....     344 

CHAPTER   XII 

THE   FIRST  STONE  OF  BATALA  CHURCH  .  •  -359 

CHAPTER   XIII 

SOME  OF  A.  L.  O.  E.'s   POSSESSIONS  .  .  •  -374 


xii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   XIV 

PAGE 

ON  THE  RIVER'S   BRINK  .  .  -  •  395 

CHAPTER   XV 

IN   HARNESS  ONCE   MORE  .  .  .  .  4IO 

CHAPTER   XVI 

A  VISIT   FROM   BISHOP   FRENCH  .  .  .  .427 

CHAPTER   XVII 

THE  DAILY  ROUND  ......  445 

CHAPTER   XVIII 

IN   OLD  AGE  .......  461 

CHAPTER   XIX 

LIGHT  AT  EVENTIDE       ......  475 

CHAPTER   XX 

THE  LAST  GREAT  SORROW  .  .  .  .  .  491 

CHAPTER   XXI 

THE   HOME-GOING  .  .  .  »  .  .  .503 

LIST  OF   PRINCIPAL   BOOKS   BY  A.  L.  O.  E.  .  .  .  5 15 

LIST  OF  SOME  SMALL   BOOKLETS   BY  A.  L.  O.  E.  .  .  519 


PART    I 
LIFE    IN    ENGLAND 


'  Constant  discipline  in  unnoticed  ways,  and  the  hidden  spirit's  silent 
unselfishness,  becoming  the  hidden  habit  of  the  life,  give  to  it  its 
true  saintly  beauty,  and  this  is  the  result  of  care  and  lowly  love  in 
little  things.  Perfection  is  attained  most  readily  by  this  constancy 
of  religious  faithfulness  in  all  minor  details  of  life,  in  the  lines  of 
duty  which  fill  up  what  remains  to  complete  the  likeness  to  our 
Lord,  consecrating  the  daily  efforts  of  self-forgetting  love.' — T.  T. 
Carter. 


CHAPTER    I 

A.D.  1771-1835 
THE   STORY  OF   HER   FATHER 

Charlotte  Maria  Tucker,  known  widely  by  her  mm 
de plume  of  A.  L.  O.  E., — signifying  A  Lady  Of  England, 
— as  the  successful  author  of  numberless  children's  books, 
deserves  to  be  yet  more  extensively  known  as  the  heroic 
Pioneer  of  elderly  and  Honorary  volunteers  in  the  broad 
Mission-fields  of  our  Church. 

.  Her  books,  which  were  much  read  and  appreciated  in 
the  youth  of  the  present  middle-aged  generation,  may  to 
some  extent  have  sunk  into  the  background,  as  the  works 
of  successive  story-tellers  do  in  the  majority  of  cases  retire, 
each  in  turn,  before  newer  names  and  newer  styles  ;  but 
the  splendid  example  set  by  Charlotte  Tucker,  at  a  time 
of  life  when  most  people  are  intent  upon  retiring  from 
work,  and  taking  if  they  may  their  ease, — an  example  of 
then  buckling  on  her  armour  afresh,  and  of  entering  upon 
the  toughest  toil  of  all  her  busy  life,  will  surely  never  be 
forgotten. 

She  was  the  sixth  child  and  third  daughter  of  Heniy 
St.  George  Tucker,  a  prominent  Bengal  Civilian,  and, 
later  on,  Chairman  of  the  East  India  Company.  All  her 
five  brothers  went  to  India,  and  all  five  were  there  in  the 
dark  days  of  the  Mutiny.  Thus  by  birth  she  had  a  close 
connection  with  that  great  eastern  branch  of  the  British 
Empire,  to  which  her  last  eighteen  years  were  entirely 


4    /^'-  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

devoted.  People  in  general  go  out  early,  and  retire  to 
England  for  rest  in  old  age.  Miss  Tucker  spent  fifty-four 
active  years  in  England,  and  then  yielded  her  remaining 
powers  to  the  cause  of  our  fellow-subjects  in  Hindustan. 

It  seems  desirable  that  a  slight  sketch  of  her  father's 
earlier  life  should  precede  the  story  of  hers. 

Henry  St.  George  Tucker  came  into  this  world  on  the 
15  th  of  February  1771.  He  was  born  in  the  Bermudas, 
on  the  Isle  St.  George,  whence  his  name,  and  was  the 
eldest  of  ten  children.  An  interesting  reference  to  this 
event  is  found  in  a  letter  of  Charlotte  Tucker's,  written 
February  15,  1890:  'As  I  went  in  my  duli  to  villages 
this  morning,  I  thought,  "  One  hundred  and  nineteen 
years  ago  a  precious  Baby  was  born  in  a  distant  island"  ; 
and  I  thanked  God  for  our  beloved  and  honoured  Father.' 

Henry  St.  George's  father  was  a  man  of  good  descent, 
of  high  reputation,  and  of  a  leading  position  in  the  islands. 
His  mother,  a  Miss  Bruere  before  marriage, — probably  the 
name  was  a  corruption  of  Bruyere^ — was  daughter  of  the 
then  governor  of  the  Bermudas,  a  gallant  old  soldier, 
possessing  fourteen  children  and  also  a  particularly 
irascible  temper. 

The  elder  Mr.  Tucker  appears  to  have  been  a  man  of 
gentle  temperament  and  liberal  views ;  I  do  not  mean 
*  Liberal '  in  the  mere  party  sense,  but  liberal  as  opposed 
to  '  illiberal.'  Whatever  his  own  opinions  may  have  been, 
he  did  not  endeavour  to  force  them  upon  his  children  ;  he 
did  not,  in  fact,  petrify  the  children's  little  fancies  by  oppo- 
sition into  a  lasting  existence.  It  is  amusing  to  read  of  the 
opposite  tendencies  among  his  boys,  one  taking  the  loyal  side 
and  another  the  republican  side  in  the  dawning  struggle 
between  England  and  her  American  Colonies.  Long  after, 
Henry  St.  George  spoke  of  himself  as  having  then  been  '  a 
bit  of  a  rebel ' ;  adding, '  But  my  republican  zeal  was  very 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  5 

much  cooled  by  the  French  Revolution  ;  and  if  a  spark  of 
it  had  remained,  our  own  most  contemptible  revolution  of 
1830  would  have  extinguished  it,  and  have  fixed  me  for 
life  a  determined  Conservative.' 

He  had  on  the  whole  a  strong  constitution,  though 
counted  delicate  as  a  child  ;  and  his  early  life  in  the 
Bermudas  was  one  of  abundant  fresh  air  and  exercise. 
Much  more  time  was  given  to  riding  and  boating  than  to 
books  ;  indeed,  his  education  seems  hardly  to  have  been 
begun  before  the  age  of  ten  years,  when  he  was  sent  to 
school  in  England.  Whether  such  a  plan  would  answer 
with  the  ordinary  run  of  boys  may  well  be  doubted. 
Henry  St.  George  Tucker  was  not  an  ordinary  boy ;  and 
he  showed  no  signs  of  loss  in  after-life  through  ten  years 
of  play  at  the  beginning  of  it. 

One  piece  of  advice  given  to  him  by  his  mother,  when  he 
was  about  to  start  for  England,  cannot  but  cause  a  smile. 
She  was  at  pains  to  assure  him  that  it  would  be  unnecessary 
to  take  off  his  hat  to  every  person  whom  he  might  meet 
in  the  streets  of  London.  Henry  St.  George,  speaking  of 
this  in  later  years,  continues  :  '  But  habit  is  strong ;  and 
even  now,  when  I  repair  to  the  stables  for  my  horse,  I  in- 
terchange bows  with  the  coachman  and  the  ostlers  and  all 
the  little  idle  urchins  whom  I  encounter  in  the  mews.'  One 
would  have  been  sorry  indeed  to  see  so  graceful  a  habit 
altered.  It  might  far  better  be  imitated.  Exceeding 
courtesy  was  through  life  characteristic  of  the  man,  and  it 
descended  in  a  marked  degree  upon  many  of  his  descen- 
dants, notably  so  upon  Charlotte  Maria,  the  A.  L.  O.  E. 
of  literature. 

School  education,  begun  at  ten,  ended  at  fourteen.  The 
boy  worked  hard,  and  rose  in  his  classes  quickly ;  though 
at  an  after  period  he  spoke  of  his  own  learning  in  those 
days  as  '  superficial.'  He  had  been  intended  by  his  father 
for  the  legal  profession,  and  many  years  of  hard  work  were 


6  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

supposed  to  lie  before  him.  These  plans  were  unexpectedly 
broken  through.  One  of  his  aunts,  who  lived  in  England, 
acting  impulsively  and  without  authority,  altered  the  whole 
course  of  his  career.  She  asked  him,  '  Would  he  like  to 
visit  India  ?  '  A  more  unnecessary  question  could  hardly 
have  been  put.  What  schoolboy  of  fourteen  would  not 
'  like  to  visit  India  '  ?  Young  Henry  seized  upon  the  idea ; 
and  the  said  aunt,  under  the  impression  that  she  was  kindly 
relieving  his  father  of  needless  school  expenses,  actually 
shipped  the  lad  off  as  middy  in  a  merchant  vessel  bound 
for  India,  not  waiting  to  write  and  ask  his  father's  'permis- 
sion.    She  merely  wrote  to  say  that  the  deed  was  done. 

Officious  aunts  do  exist  in  the  world  ;  but  surely  few  so 
officious  as  this.  The  deepest  displeasure  was  felt  and 
shown  when  Henry's  father  learned  what  had  happened. 
But  by  the  time  that  his  grieved  remonstrances  reached 
the  boy,  Henry  was  fifteen  thousand  miles  away,  '  hunting 
wild  animals,  on  the  plains  of  Behar.'  In  the  present  day 
a  boy  so  despatched  might  be  sent  back  again  ;  but  in 
those  days  India  was  separated  from  England  by  a  vast 
gulf  of  distance  and  of  time.  Any  one  writing  from  India 
to  England  could  not  look  for  a  reply  in  less  than  a  year  ; 
and  his  father  was  at  Bermuda,  not  even  at  home,  which 
madd  a  further  complication. 

The  boy's  condition  must  at  first  have  been  forlorn 
enough.  After  a  petted  and  luxurious  boyhood,  he  had  to 
live  for  months  together  upon  salt  junk  ;  and  his  bed  was 
only  a  hencoop.  But  there  was  '  stuff'  in  him,  and  hard- 
ships of  all  kinds  were  most  pluckily  endured.  On  landing 
at  Calcutta  he  found  himself  in  a  strange  country,  among 
strange  faces,  without  money  and  without  work,  though 
happily  not  quite  without  friends.  His  mother's  brother, 
Mr.  Bruere,  was  one  of  the  Government  Secretaries  in  Cal- 
cutta ;  and  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Bruere  and  of  Mr.  Bruere's 
pretty  little  sylph-like  wife  the  young  adventurer  found 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  7 

shelter  for  some  months,  until  an  opening  could  be  secured 
for  him. 

Fifteen  years  followed  of  a  hard  and  continuous  struggle. 
As  long  after  he  said  of  himself,  he  '  looked  the  world  in 
the  face '  in  those  days  ;  and  while  a  mere  boy  of  fifteen  or 
sixteen  he  set  himself  resolutely  to  get  on.  From  the  first  he 
grappled  with  the  Native  languages,  showing  a  vigour  and 
persistency  in  the  study  which,  many  many  years  later,  were 
visible  again  in  his  daughter  Charlotte,  when  grappling 
with  the  very  same  task.  Only  he  was  young  ;  and  she, 
when  she  followed  his  example,  was  well  on  in  middle  life. 

Towards  the  end  of  those  fifteen  years  resolution  and 
untiring  energy  triumphed  ;  and  from  the  age  of  about 
thirty  Mr.  Tucker's  rise  to  a  good  position  was  steady. 

In  1792  he  became  a  member  of  the  Bengal  Civil  Ser- 
vice. In  1809  he  was  made  Secretary  in  the  Public 
Department.  But  he  had  had  heavy  work  and  many 
troubles,  and  his  health  began  to  fail ;  so  the  following 
year,  after  a  quarter  of  a  century  of  unbroken  exile,  he 
set  off  for  England,  carrying  with  him  Government  testi- 
monials, couched  in  the  warmest  terms.  These  testimonials 
spoke  of  his  '  long  and  meritorious  services,'  of  his  '  pecu- 
liar abilities,'  of  his  *  talents  and  acquirements  of  the  highest 
order,'  of  his  '  unwearied  diligence,'  of  his  '  unimpeached 
integrity.'  All  this,  of  one  who,  twenty-five  years  before, 
had  landed  on  Indian  shores  an  almost  penniless  adven- 
turer, without  so  much  as  a  definite  plan  of  what  to  do 
with  himself  and  his  energies  ! 

That  very  year  he  was  engaged,  and  the  year  after  he 
was  married,  to  Jane  Boswell,  daughter  of  a  Mr.  Robert 
Boswell  of  Edinburgh,  who  was  related  to  the  well-known 
biographer  of  Dr.  Johnson.  The  Boswell  family  was  known 
to  have  first  settled  in  Berwickshire  as  far  back  as  in  the 
days  of  William  Rufus,and  afterwards  in  Fifeshire  and  Ayr- 
shire at  Balmute  and  Auchinleck.     Mr.  Robert  Boswell's 


8  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

grandmother,  Lady  Elisabeth  Bruce,  was  a  daughter  of 
the  first  Earl  of  Kincardine.  Mr.  Boswell  was  a  devotedly- 
good  and  also  an  able  man  ;  a  minister,  not  in  the  Scottish 
Presbyterian  Church,  but  in  some  smaller  religious  body ; 
and  his  death  took  place  in  a  somewhat  tragic  manner, 
before  the  date  of  his  daughter's  marriage  to  Mr.  Tucker. 
While  preaching,  he  quoted  the  text  which  begins,  '  All 

flesh  is  as  grass ,'  and  as  he  uttered  the  words  he  fell 

back,  dead  ! 

A  characteristic  anecdote  is  told  of  his  wife, — A.  L.  O.  E.'s 
grandmother.  She  had  a  large  family,  and  was  badly  off 
One  day  a  poor  woman  applied  to  her  for  help  ;  and  Mrs. 
Boswell  called  out  to  her  daughter  Jane,  to  know  what 
money  they  happened  to  have  in  hand.  '  Only  one  seven- 
shilling  piece,'  was  the  answer.  Mrs.  Boswell's  voice 
sounded  distinctly, — '  Give  it,  then  ;  give  it  to  the  woman.' 
'  But,  dear  mamma,  there  is  no  more  money  in  the  house,' 
remonstrated  Jane.  More  decisively  still  came  the  re- 
sponse, '  Give  it,  then  ;  give  it  to  the  woman.'  And  given 
it  was.  The  story  almost  inevitably  recalls  that  of  the 
Widow's  Mite ;  even  though  from  certain  points  of  view 
one  is  dubious  as  to  the  wisdom  of  the  act. 

Despite  the  poverty  of  the  family  Mrs.  Boswell's 
daughters  settled  well  in  life.  One  married  Mr.  Egerton 
of  the  High  Court  in  Calcutta;  one  married  Dr.  Rox- 
burgh ;  one  married  General  Carnegie  ;  one  married  Mr. 
Anderson ;  one  only,  Veronica  by  name,  remained  un- 
married ;  and  Jane  became  the  wife  of  Henry  St.  George 
Tucker.  She  was  at  that  time  a  gentle  and  beautiful  girl  of 
about  twenty-one,  while  Mr.  Tucker  was  already  over  forty. 

Early  in  the  following  year,  1812,  they  went  out  to 
India  together ;  and  his  delight  was  great  in  returning  to 
the  country  where  he  had  toiled  so  long,  and  had  made 
many  friends.  This  time,  however,  his  stay  in  the  east 
was  to  be  brief. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA    TUCKER  9 

His  first  child,  Henry  Carre,  was  born  that  same  year ; 
and  two  years  later  came  his  eldest  daughter,  Sibella 
Jane.  Also  in  18 14  fell  the  blow  of  his  Mother's  death, 
over  which,  strong  man  that  he  was,  he  wept  passionately. 
Then  his  wife's  health  seemed  to  be  seriously  failing  ; 
and  this  decided  him  to  leave  the  land  of  his  adoption, 
throwing  up  all  prospects  in  that  direction.  In  181 5,  the 
first  year  of  European  peace,  at  the  age  of  forty-five,  he 
'  retired  from  the  active  service  of  the  Company,'  travel- 
ling by  long  sea  with  his  invalid  wife  and  his  two  little 
ones,  and  spending  some  time  at  the  Cape  by  the  way. 
Before  they  arrived  in  England  another  little  one,  Frances 
Anne,  had  been  added  to  their  number. 

A  home  was  found  in  Charlotte  Square,  Edinburgh ; 
and  for  some  years,  till  18 19  or  1820,  he  was  well  content 
to  remain  there,  living  a  quiet  home-life,  with  a  little 
family  growing  around  him.  Two  more  boys  came, 
George  William  and  Robert  Tudor, — the  former  dying  in 
babyhood,  the  latter  growing  up  to  be  slain  in  the  Indian 
Mutiny.  Losing  the  infant  George  was  a  dire  trouble  to 
his  parents  ;  and  Mrs.  Tucker,  believing  that  he  had 
succumbed  to  the  keen  cold  of  Edinburgh,  was  never  at 
rest  in  her  mind  until  the  northern  home  had  been  ex- 
changed for  one  in  the  south.  Such  a  change  was  not  to 
be  accomplished  in  a  day,  but  in  the  course  of  time  it 
came  about ;  and  meanwhile  the  remaining  children  were 
a  constant  source  of  interest  and  delight.  The  '  baby '  at 
this  date  was  Robert ;  afterwards  a  very  favourite  elder 
brother  of  A.  L.  O.  E.  His  children,  known  in  the  family 
by  the  name  of  '  The  Robins,'  became  in  later  years  as 
her  own. 

Mr.  Tucker  could  not  long  remain  contented  without 
definite  work.  He  was  still  in  the  prime  of  life,  still 
under  fifty  ;  and  an  eager  desire  took  hold  of  him  to  enter 
public  life  once  more,  to  serve  again  his  own  country,  as 


lo  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

well  as  the  eastern  land  of  his  adoption.  These  pur- 
poses he  thought  might  best  be  carried  out  by  his  becom- 
ing, if  possible,  one  of  the  Directors  of  the  East  India 
Company.  For  the  fulfilment  of  his  desire — a  desire, 
not  for  gain  or  wealth  or  position,  but  for  the  means  of 
doing  good — he  had  to  wait  a  considerable  time.  He 
had  indeed  to  wait  until  his  next  little  daughter,  Char- 
lotte Maria,  was  five  years  old.  Then,  at  length,  he 
was  appointed  Director ;  one  of  the  Twenty-four  who,  in 
those  days,  practically  ruled  India.  Thereafter  his  influ- 
ence was  steadfastly  exerted  in  the  direction  of  a  wise 
and  righteous  government  of  the  dark  millions  of  Hindu- 
stan; the  land  in  which  he  had  spent  a  quarter  of  a 
century  of  his  life,  and  to  which  afterward  not  only  all 
his  five  sons  went,  but  one  of  his  five  daughters  also,  in 
the  advanced  years  of  her  life. 

While  he  waited  for  this  long-desired  appointment, 
other  changes  took  place.  They  left  their  home  in  Edin- 
burgh and  moved  south,  first  spending  some  months  at 
Friern  Hatch,  in  Barnet,  near  Finchley  ;  and  there  it  was 
that  little  Charlotte  first  saw  the  light  of  day.  In  1822 
they  went  to  live  in  London,  settling  into  No.  3  Upper 
Portland  Place,  whence  no  further  move  was  made  until 
after  the  death  of  Mrs.  Tucker,  more  than  forty-five  years 
later. 

In  Portland  Place  the  family  was  completed.  Two 
years  after  the  birth  of  Charlotte  came  her  next  brother, 
St.  George  ;  two  years  later  still  her  next  sister,  Dorothea 
Laura,  her  peculiar  companion  and  friend.  The  three 
youngest,  William,  Charlton,  and  Clara,  finished  the  tale 
often  living  children. 

Mr.  Tucker  was,  as  may  have  been  already  gathered,  a 
man  of  unusual  force  of  character  and  of  indomitable  will ; 
robust  in  body  and  mind  ;  unwearying  in  work  ;  self-reliant, 
yet  never  presumptuous  ;  an  absolute  gentleman,  remark- 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  ii 

able  for  the  polished  courtesy  of  his  bearing,  alike  to 
superiors,  equals,  and  inferiors  in  social  position  ;  open 
and  straightforward  as  daylight ;  firm  in  his  own  con- 
victions, but  well  able  to  look  on  both  sides  of  a  question, 
and  liberal  towards  those  who  differed  from  him  ;  entirely 
fearless  in  doing  what  he  held  to  be  right,  and  entirely  free 
from  all  thought  of  self-seeking.  He  was,  as  his  Bio- 
grapher Mr.  Kaye  observes, — 'pre-eminently  a  man 
amongst  men,' — 'a  statesman  at  eighteen,  and  a  states- 
man at  eighty.'  He  was  also  a  man  of  deep  and  true  re- 
ligion ;  a  religion  not  much  expressed  in  words,  but  ap- 
parent in  every  inch  of  his  career.  In  a  letter  written  long 
after  his  death  by  his  daughter  Charlotte,  she  remarked, 
when  speaking  of  the  biography  of  some  well-known  man  : 
'There  is  nothing  to  indicate  that  he  ever  said,  as  our 
beloved  Father  said,  "  The  publican's  prayer  is  the  prayer 
of  us  all !  "  '  Probably  religious  speech  never  came  easily 
to  him.  His  life,  however,  spoke  more  eloquently  than 
mere  words  could  have  done.     . 

One  of  his  main  characteristics  was  an  abounding 
generosity.  He  was  always  ready  to  help  those  who 
needed  help,  up  to  his  power,  and  beyond  his  power.  In 
his  own  home  he  was  charming  ;  full  of  wit,  full  of  fun,  full 
of  gay  spirits  and  laughter ;  full  also  of  the  tenderest 
affection  for  his  wife  and  children,  an  affection  which  was 
abundantly  returned.  He  was  an  intensely  loving  and 
lovable  man  ;  his  wonderful  sweetness  and  evenness  of 
temper,  never  disturbed  by  heavy  work  or  pressing  cares, 
endearing  him  to  all  with  whom  he  came  in  contact. 
While  he  talked  little  of  his  own  feelings,  he  did  much  for 
the  good  of  others ;  and  his  life  was  one  long  stretch  of 
usefulness.  The  union  in  him  of  strength  with  gentleness, 
of  a  masterful  intellect  with  a  spirit  of  yielding  courtesy, 
of  nobility  with  playfulness,  of  generosity  with  self-restraint, 
of  real  religious  conviction   and   experience  with  frolic- 


12     LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

some  gaiety,  made  a  combination  not  more   rare   than 
beautiful. 

Many  of  his  characteristics  were  distinctly  inherited  from 
him  by  his  daughter  Charlotte  ;  among  others,  his  literary 
bent.  He  was  fond  of  writing,  and  in  his  well-occupied 
life  he  found  some  time  to  indulge  the  play  of  his  fancy. 
In  the  year  1835  he  published  a  volume  of  plays  and 
enigmas,  called  The  Tragedies  of  Harold  and  Camoens^ 
dedicated  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  for  whom  he  and  his 
family  had  the  deepest  esteem  and  admiration. 


CHAPTER    II 

A.D.  182I-1835 
CHILDHOOD   AND   GIRLHOOD 

Charlotte  Maria  Tucker  was  born  on  the  8th  of 
May  1 82 1,  not  within  the  sound  of  Bow  bells,  but,  as 
already  stated,  at  Friern  Hatch,  in  Barnet,  no  long  time 
before  the  family  settled  down  in  Portland  Place. 

Details  of  her  very  early  life  are  greatly  wanting.  We 
should  like  to  know  how  the  childish  intellect  began  to 
develop  ;  what  first  turned  her  thoughts  into  the  '  writing 
line ' ;  whether  authorship  came  to  her  spontaneously  or 
no.     But  few  records  have  been  kept. 

It  is  not  indeed  difficult  to  imagine  the  general  char- 
acter of  her  childhood.  She  was  clever,  quick-witted,  full 
of  fun,  overflowing  with  energy,  abounding  in  life  and 
vigour.  One  of  a  large  and  high-spirited  family,  living  in 
a  home  of  comparative  comfort  and  ease,  and  surrounded 
by  a  wide  circle  of  friends  and  acquaintances,  Charlotte 
must  have  had  a  happy  childhood. 

Long  years  after,  when  old  and  well-nigh  worn  out  with 
her  Indian  campaign,  she  wrote — 

*  It  seems  curious  to  look  back  to  the  birthday  sixty-one  years  ago, 
when  sweet  Mother  called  me  "  her  ten-years  old."  Do  you  remember 
my  funny  little  cards  of  invitation  to  a  feast  of  liquorice-wine, — 
with  possibly  something  else, — 

*  "  This  is  the  eighth  of  May, 
Charlotte's  Happy  Birthday." 

13 


14  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

'  I  would  not  change  this  time  for  that.  What  a  proud  ambitious 
little  creature  I  was  !  I  have  a  pretty  vivid  recollection  of  my  own 
character  in  youth.  I  should  have  liked  to  climb  high  and  be 
famous.' 

In  another  letter  she  alludes  to  the  fact  that  as  a  child 
she  had  been  accused  of '  liking  to  ride  her  high  horse.' 

No  doubt  in  those  early  days  her  ambition  pointed  to 
higher  game  than  children's  tales  written  '  with  a  purpose.' 

In  the  gay  young  family  party,  two  daughters  and  two 
sons  were  older  than  herself.  Of  the  latter  the  nearest  in 
age  was  Robert,  four  years  her  senior,  the  future  dying 
hero  of  the  Indian  Mutiny.  'Our  noble  Robert'  she  calls 
him  long  after ;  and  there  appears  to  have  been  an  early 
and  close  tie  between  Robert  and  his  ambitious,  eager 
little  sister.  Of  Fanny,  too,  the  next  sister  above  her  in 
age,  two  years  older  than  Robert,  she  was  particularly 
fond.  But  the  tie  in  her  life  which  was  most  of  all  to  her, 
perhaps  taking  precedence  of  even  her  passionate  love 
for  her  Father,  was  the  bond  between  herself  and  Laura, 
the  next  youngest  sister,  about  four  years  her  junior. 
From  infancy  to  old  age  these  two  were  one,  loving  each 
other  with  an  absolutely  unbroken  and  unclouded  devotion. 

The  two  were  counted  to  some  extent  alike,  though 
with  differences.  Laura  was  the  gentler,  the  more  self- 
distrustful,  the  more  disposed  to  lean.  Charlotte  was  the 
more  impulsive,  the  more  eager,  the  more  energetic,  the 
more  independent,  the  more  self-reliant.  In  fact,  Char- 
lotte never  did  '  lean '  upon  anybody.  Both  were  equally 
full  of  spirits  and  of  frolicsome  fun. 

In  another  letter  from  India  to  this  sister,  dated  January 
1 8,  1886,  when  referring  to  a  recent  illness,  she  wrote — 

'  My  memory  is  very  acute.  I  thought  lately  that  it  was  a  great 
shame  that  I  never  should  go  back  to  dear  old  No.  3,  which  really 
was  the  happy  home  of  our  childhood  before  our  griefs.  So  what  do 
you  think,  Laura  dear,   I   did  lately?     I  acted  over  in  my  mind 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  15 

Christmas  Day,  as  in  the  old  times,  when  you  and  I  were  girls.  I 
do  not  think  that  I  left  out  anything ;  our  jumping  on  dearest 
Mother's  bed ;  the  new  Silver ;  ^  the  Holly  and  the  Mistletoe ; 
the  Christmas  Box ;  the  choosing  the  gowns  ;  the  Cake,  etc.  Then 
I  went  to  Trinity  Church  ;  I  heard  the  glorious  old  hymn,  "  High  let 
us  swell  triumphant  notes."  It  was  such  a  nice  meditation.  Then 
Aunt  Anderson  and  her  dear  daughters  came  for  dinner.  Of  course 
Aunt  had  her  little  yellow  sugar-plum  box  ! ' 

It  is  a  pretty  and  vivid  description  of  the  olden  days  in 
that  dear  old  home,  always  spoken  of  among  themselves 
as  '  Number  Three,'  which  she  loved  ardently  to  the  last. 
Charlotte's  affections  for  everything  connected  with  her 
youth  were  of  a  very  enduring  nature. 

Another  short  extract  from  her  later  letters  may  be 
given  here,  describing  something  of  what  the  loved 
sister  Laura  was  to  her  in  those  early  days.  It  is  dated 
December  10,  1892. 

'  My  Laura  loved  me  so  fondly ;  we  were  so  close  to  each  other. 
How  we  used  to  share  each  other's  thoughts  from  youth,  as  we 
shared  the  same  room  !  Our  honoured  Father  loved  to  hear  his 
Laura's  merry  ringing  laugh  ;  when  we  chatted  together  he  would 
say  to  her  favourite  sister,' — meaning  herself — ' "  She  combines  so 
much."  I  doubt  that  he  saw  any  imperfection  in  a  being  so  bright, 
so  sweet.' 

And  in  yet  one  more  letter  to  this  same  Laura,  dated 
November  i,  1884 — 

'  You  underrate  your  own  quahfications  as  a  companion,  darling. 
Don't  I  know  you  of  old,  how  playful  and  genial  you  are,  as  well  as 
loving  }  .  .  .  You  are  choice  company  for  a  tHe-a-tete.^ 

The  earliest  writing  of  Charlotte's  which  comes  to  hand 
is  indorsed,  *  Charlotte,  1832,'  and  is  addressed  to  '  Miss 

1  It  was  a  custom  in  the  family,  through  several  generations,  to  give  a 
Christmas  present  to  each  child  of  new  silver,  the  amount  given  being  one 
shining  for  each  year  of  age,  and  sixpence  in  addition.  Thus,  a  child  of  ten 
would  receive  ten  and  sixpence,  all  in  new  silver. 


i6  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

D.  L.  Tucker,  3  Upper  Portland  Place.'  It  is  a  valentine 
written  to  her  sister  ;  and  it  shows  that  at  the  early  age  of 
eleven  she  had  at  least  begun  a  little  versifying ;  usually 
the  line  first  adopted  by  incipient  authors. 

'  The  snow-drops  sweet  that  grace  the  plain 
Are  emblems,  love,  of  you, 
With  innocence  and  beauty  blest 
Pure  as  the  morning  dew. 

'  Sweet  rosebud,  free  from  every  storm 
Of  life,  may  peace  incline 
To  hover  ever  round  thy  bed, 
My  dearest  Valentine.' 

Another  early  effort,  undated,  but  possibly  a  year  or 
two  later,  is  addressed,  '  To  Dolly,  the  sweet  little  bud  of 
the  morn,' — no  doubt  to  the  same  favourite  sister,  Dorothea 
Laura. 

'  Sweet  bud  of  the  morning,  what  poet  can  speak 

The  glories  that  beam  in  thy  eye  ? 
The  rosebuds  that  bloom  on  thy  fat  little  cheek, — 
And  thy  round  head  so  stuffed  full  of  Latin  and  Greek, 
Arithmetic  and  Geology. 

'  I  send  you  a  character-teller,  my  love, 

'Tis  Httle  and  poor,  but  it  may 
My  kindness,  affection,  etcetera^  prove. 
And  show  you,  my  dear  little  Dolly,  I  strove 

To  make  mine  a  happy  birthday.' 

What  the  '  character-teller '  may  have  been  it  is  diffi- 
cult even  to  conjecture.  Since  Laura  was  four  years  her 
junior,  the  Latin,  Greek  and  Geology  were  of  course 
meant  in  the  symbolical  sense,  standing  for  learning  in 
general. 

One  more  apparently  early  effort  remains ;  not  this 
time  versification,  but  a  birthday  letter  to  Laura,  inscribed, 
'  To  my  dear  Lady  Emma,  from  her  affectionate  Tosti.' 
Why  Lady   Emma? — and  why  Tosti?     In   these   three 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  17 

effusions  the  handwritings  are  curiously  unlike  one 
another,  though  all  are  childish.  One  is  large  and  un- 
formed ;  another  is  small  and  cramped  ;  the  third  is  neat 
and  of  a  copperplate  description.  It  may  be  that  her 
writing  was  long  before  it  crystallized  into  any  definite 
shape;  often  the  case  with  many-sided  people.  But  for 
the  juvenile  handwriting,  it  would  be  almost  impossible 
to  believe  that  the  following  middle-aged  production  was 
not  written  in  later  years.  Children  were,  however,  in 
those  days  taught  to  express  themselves  like  grown 
people ;  and  no  doubt  she  counted  that  she  had  accom- 
plished her  task  well. 

'  Many  joyful  returns  of  this  day  to  you,  dearest  Laura,  and  may 
each  find  you  better  and  happier  than  the  last.  I  send  you  a  little 
piece  of  velvet,  which  you  may  find  useful,  for  I  do  not  think  you 
will  value  a  present  only  for  the  money  it  costs  ;  and  I  dare  say  you 
will  agree  with  me  that  a  trifle  from  an  affectionate  friend  is  often 
more  valuable  than  great  gifts  from  those  who  love  you  not. 

'  I  hope,  dearest  Lautie,  you  may  enjoy  a  very  particularly  happy 
birthday,  and  that  you  may  have  as  few  sorrows  in  the  year  you  are 
just  entering  as  in  that  you  have  just  passed. — Accept  my  kindest 
love,  and  believe  me  to  be 

'  Your  affectionate  friend  and  sister, 

'C.  M.  T.' 

This  letter  may  have  been  some  years  later  than  the 
two  copies  of  verses  ;  but  that  hardly  does  away  with 
the  difficulty.  The  style  is  almost  as  pedantic  for  the  age 
of  sixteen  or  seventeen  as  for  the  age  of  ten  or  twelve. 

Side  by  side  with  the  intense  devotion  for  her  sister 
Laura,  there  was  a  considerable  degree  of  reticence  in 
Charlotte's  nature.  It  may  have  developed  more  fully  as 
time  went  on  ;  yet  it  must  surely  have  been  a  part  of  her- 
self even  in  childhood.  It  was  not  with  her  a  superficial 
reserve,  an  acted  reticence,  such  as  may  sometimes  be 
seen  in  essentially  shallow  women.  On  the  surface  she 
B 


1 8  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

was  free,  frank,  chatty,  quick  in  response,  ready  to  con- 
verse, full  of  liveliness,  fun,  and  repartee.  But  underlying 
the  freedom  and  brightness  there  was  a  habit  of  silence 
about  her  own  affairs — that  is  to  say,  about  affairs  which 
concerned  only  and  exclusively  herself — which  to  some 
extent  was  a  life-long  characteristic. 

Neither  Charlotte  nor  any  of  her  sisters  ever  went  to 
school.  Their  father  had  a  very  pronounced  objection  to 
schools  for  girls ;  indeed,  he  had  himself  made  an  early 
resolution  never  to  marry  any  girl  who  had  been  educated 
at  school,  and  he  kept  that  resolution.  The  same  idea 
was  followed  out  with  his  own  daughters.  A  daily  gover- 
ness came  in  to  superintend  their  studies  ;  and  occasional 
masters  were  provided.  In  reference  to  the  latter  Char- 
lotte wrote,  many  years  afterward,  to  a  niece :  *  No  one 
can  do  as  much  for  us  in  the  way  of  education  as  we  can 
do  for  ourselves.  A  willing  mind  is  like  a  steam-engine, 
and  carries  one  on  famously.  When  I  was  young  my 
beloved  parents  did  not  feel  able  to  give  us  many  masters. 
We  knew  that,  and  it  made  us  more  anxious  to  profit  by 
what  we  had.' 

Twenty-five  years  o'f  hard  toil  in  India  had  not  made  a 
rich  man  of  Mr.  Tucker  ;  nor  did  his  position  as  a  Director 
bring  him  wealth.  It  was  his  daughter's  pride  in  after- 
life to  know  that  he  had  died  comparatively  poor,  because 
of  his  inviolable  sense  of  honour.  Not  that  more  money 
would  not  have  been  acceptable !  Ten  children,  in- 
cluding five  sons,  to  be  launched  in  life,  are  a  serious 
pull  upon  any  purse  of  ordinary  capacity  ;  and  Mr.  Tucker 
was  of  an  essentially  generous  nature.  He  had  many 
relatives,  many  friends,  and  the  demands  upon  his  purse 
were  numerous.  On  a  certain  occasion  he  gave  away 
about  one-quarter  of  his  whole  capital^  a  sum  amounting  to 
several  thousands  of  pounds,  to  help  a  relative  in  a  great 
emergency.     One  who   met  him  immediately  afterwards 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  19 

spoke  of  his  appearing  to  have  suddenly  grown  into  an 
old  man. 

In  Charlotte's  earlier  years  anxiety  as  to  money  matters 
was  often  experienced  ;  and  recurring  Christmastides  saw 
a  repeated  difficulty  in  making  both  ends  meet.  This  state 
of  things  continued  up  till  about  the  year  1837,  when  an 
unlooked-for  legacy  was  left  to  Mr.  Tucker,  as  a  token  of 
great  esteem,  by  a  friend,  Mr.  Brough.  Besides  the  main 
legacy  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tucker,  the  sum  of  two  hundred 
pounds  came  to  each  of  the  children,  and  was  treated  as  a 
'  nest-egg '  for  each.  From  this  date  serious  pressure 
ceased,  and  Mr.  Tucker  became  able  to  meet  the  various 
calls  upon  him  ;  not  indeed  without  care  and  economy, 
but  without  a  perpetual  weight  of  uneasiness.  Some  few 
years  later  another  friend,  Mr.  Maclew,  left  another  legacy 
in  the  same  kind  and  unexpected  manner. 

These  facts  serve  to  explain  the  paucity  of  masters  when 
Charlotte  was  young.  But  the  sisters  bravely  accepted 
the  condition  of  things,  and  worked  hard  to  make  up  for 
any  disadvantages.  One  distinct  gain  in  such  a  home 
education  was  that  at  least  they  were  free  to  develop 
each  in  her  own  natural  lines,  instead  of  being  all  trimmed 
as  far  as  possible  into  one  shape. 

Charlotte's  *  lines '  were  many  in  number. 

She  had  a  marked  talent  for  drawing,  and  could  take 
likenesses  of  her  friends ;  good  as  regarded  the  salient 
features,  though  apt  to  grow  into  more  of  caricatures  than 
the  young  artist  intended.  Musical  gifts  also  were  hers, 
including  an  almost  painfully  sensitive  ear.  Though  her 
voice  was  never  really  very  good,  she  sang  much ;  and 
while  well  able  to  take  a  second  at  sight,  she  was  in  after 
years  equally  ready  to  undertake  any  other  part  in  a  glee, 
inclusive  of  the  bass,  which  often  fell  to  her  share  when  a 
man's  voice  happened  to  be  lacking. 

A  gift  for  teaching  showed  itself  early ;  and  as  a  child 


20  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

she  would  try  to  impress  geographical  facts  upon  her 
younger  brothers  and  sisters  by  an  original  system  of  her 
own.  In  the  Park  Crescent  Gardens,  near  Portland  Place, 
— their  playground  ;  described  by  one  friend  in  those  days 
as  a  'jungle/  because  of  its  unkempt  condition, — she  would 
name  one  bed  England,  another  France,  another  Germany, 
and  so  on,  and  would  thus  fix  in  the  children's  minds 
their  various  positions,  though  the  shapes  and  sizes  of  the 
beds  were  by  no  means  always  what  they  ought  to  have 
been.  That  the  mode  of  instruction  was  effective  is  evi- 
dent from  the  fact  that  her  brother,  Mr.  St.  George  Tucker, 
can  recall  the  lessons  still,  after  the  lapse  of  fifty  years, 
and  can  say,  '  By  that  means  I  learnt  that  England  was  in 
the  north-west  corner  of  Europe.' 

Another  direction  in  which  she  excelled  was  that  of 
dancing.  Even  in  walking  she  possessed  a  peculiarly 
springy  step,  remarked  by  all  who  knew  her ;  and  this  in 
dancing  was  a  great  advantage.  She  was  at  home  alike 
in  the  dignified  minuet  and  in  the  active  gavotte^  and  she 
would  perform  the  pas  de  basque  with  much  spirit.  Indeed 
dancing  was  an  exercise  in  which  she  found  immense  en- 
joyment through  half  a  century  of  life. 

At  home  Charlotte  was  a  leader  in  the  games,  herself 
flowing  over  with  fun  and  frolic.  Her  fertile  imagination 
left  her  never  at  a  loss  for  schemes  of  amusement.  Natur- 
ally eager,  impulsive,  vehement,  she  had  from  be- 
ginning to  end  an  extraordinary  amount  of  energy, 
and  in  childhood  her  vigour  must  have  been  almost  un- 
tirable. 

One  can  imagine  how  the  house  echoed  with  the  gay 
voices  and  laughter  of  the  young  people,  as  they  pursued 
their  various  games,  led  by  the  indefatigable  Charlotte. 
Mr.  Tucker  loved  the  sound  of  those  merry  voices ;  and 
when  he  could  join  them  he  was  probably  the  merriest 
of  the  whole   party.     At   one   period,  heavy  and   long- 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  21 

continued  work  in  '  clearing  up  the  finances '  of  the  East 
India  Company  kept  him  much  apart  from  the  family 
circle ;  and  the  delight  was  great  when  he  could  leave  his 
big  dry  books,  and  be  as  a  boy  among  the  children 
again. 

Bella,  the  elder  girl,  was  pretty  and  of  gracious  manners, 
with  dark  eyes,  and  with  a  capacity  for  dressing  herself 
well  upon  the  very  moderate  allowance  which  her  father 
was  able  to  bestow.  Fanny,  the  next  sister,  though  not 
at  all  handsome,  had  also  soft  dark  eyes,  and  a  peculiarly 
sweet  disposition  ;  and  she  too  dressed  nicely.  It  was 
commonly  said  amongst  themselves  that  Fanny  was  '  the 
gentle  sister,'  and  that  Charlotte  was  '  the  clever  heroic 
sister.'  But  Charlotte  was  not  gifted  with  the  art  of  dress- 
ing well. 

In  those  early  days,  and  for  many  a  year  afterwards,  it 
would  not  appear  that  gentleness  or  sweetness  were  char- 
acteristics belonging  to  Charlotte.  They  were  of  far  later 
growth,  developing  only  under  long  pressure  of  loss  and 
trial.  In  her  childhood  and  girlhood,  though  doubtless 
she  could  be  both  winning  and  tender  to  the  few  whom 
she  intensely  loved,  yet  it  was  impossible  to  describe  her 
generally  by  any  such  adjectives.  She  was  chiefly  re- 
markable for  her  spring  and  energy,  her  originality  and 
cleverness,  her  wild  spirits,  and  her  lofty  determination. 
With  all  her  liveliness,  however,  she  was  in  no  sense  a 
madcap,  being  thoroughly  a  lady. 

In  appearance  Charlotte  was  never  good-looking  ;  and 
in  girlhood  she  could  not  have  been  pretty  ;  though  there 
was  always  an  indescribable  charm  in  the  vivid  life  and 
the  ever-varying  expression  of  her  face. 

One  friend  remembers  hearing  her  tell  a  story  of  her 
young  days,  bearing  upon  this  question  of  personal 
appearance.  With  a  mirror  and  a  hand-glass  she  ex- 
amined her  own  face,  the  profile  as  well  as  the  full  face, 


22  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

and  evidently  she  was  not  satisfied  with  the  result.  A 
wise  resolution  followed.  Since  she  'could  never  be 
pretty/  she  determined  that  she  *  would  try  to  be  good, 
and  to  do  all  the  good  in  the  world  that  she  could.'  It 
was  a  resolve  well  carried  out. 

This  sounds  like  a  curious  echo  of  an  early  experience 
of  her  father.  When  a  boy  of  about  ten,  he  caught  small- 
pox, and  '  came  forth,'  as  he  related  of  himself  long  after, 
'most  wofully  disfigured.  .  .  .  "Well,"  observed  one  of 
my  aunts,  "  you  have  now,  Henry,  lost  all  your  good  looks, 
and  you  have  nothing  for  it  but  to  make  yourself  agreeable 
by  your  manners  and  accomplishments."  Here  was  cold 
comfort ;  but  the  words  made  an  impression  upon  my 
mind,  and  may  possibly  have  had  some  influence  on  my 
future  life.' 

And  much  the  same  thought  is  reproduced  in  Charlotte 
Tucker's  own  clever  and  amusing  little  book.  My  Neigh- 
bour's Shoes, — when,  as  Archie  gazes  into  the  mirror,  he 
says  of  himself,  'One  thing  is  evident;  as  I  can't  be 
admired  for  my  beauty,  I  must  make  myself  liked  in 
some  other  way.  I  '11  be  a  jolly  good-natured  little 
soul.' 

In  girlish  days  it  may  have  been  a  prominent  idea  with 
Charlotte.  By  nature  she  not  only  was  impulsive,  but  she 
no  doubt  inherited  some  measure  of  her  great-grandfather 
Bruere's  irascible  temper  ;  and  the  amount  of  self-control 
speedily  developed  by  one  of  so  impetuous  a  temperament 
is  remarkable.  High  principle  had  sway  at  a  very  early 
age ;  but  this  thought,  that  her  lack  of  good  looks  might 
be  compensated  for  by  good  humour  and  kindness  to 
others,  may  also  have  been  a  motive  of  considerable 
power  in  the  formation  of  her  character. 

It  must  be  added  that  not  all  thought  so  ill  of  her 
looks  as  Charlotte  herself  did.  An  artist  of  repute,  who 
saw  her  in  the  later  days  of  her  Indian  career,  has  said 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  23 

unhesitatingly,  in  reply  to  a  query  on  this  subject, — 
*  Plain  !  No !  A  face  with  such  a  look  of  intellect  as 
Miss  Tucker's  could  never  be  plain.'  If  matters  were 
thus  in  old  age,  the  same  might  surely  have  been  said 
when  she  was  young.  But  beauty  of  feature  she  did  not 
possess. 

In  addition  to  her  other  gifts,  Charlotte  had  something 
at  least  of  dramatic  power,  and  in  her  own  home-circle 
she  was  a  spirited  actress. 

Mr.  Tucker's  published  volume  of  plays  and  enigmas 
has  been  already  named.  Both  Harold  and  Cajnoens 
were  acted  by  the  young  folk  of  the  family,  with  the  rest 
of  their  number  for  audience.  It  is  uncertain  whether  any 
outside  friends  were  admitted  on  these  occasions. 

In  the  second  play  Charlotte  took  the  part  of  the 
heroine,  Theodora ;  and  her  brother,  St.  George,  took  the 
part  of  Ferdinand.  Camoens,  the  hero,  is  betrayed  to  the 
Inquisition  by  Theodora ;  the  betrayal  being  caused  by  a 
fit  of  fierce  jealousy  on  the  part  of  Theodora,  who  loves, 
and  is  apparently  loved  by,  Camoens.  The  jealousy  has 
some  foundation^  since  Camoens  decides  to  marry,  not 
Theodora  but  Clara.  Theodora  in  her  wrath  is  helped 
by  another  lover,  Ferdinand,  to  carry  out  her  plot,  and 
together  they  bring  a  false  charge  against  Ferdinand,  who 
is  speedily  landed  in  the  dungeons  of  the  Inquisition. 
Theodora  then,  finding  that  Clara  does  not  love  Camoens, 
and  repenting  too  late  her  deed,  goes  mad  with  remorse. 
Camoens.  is  after  all  set  at  liberty,  none  the  worse  for  his 
imprisonment ;  but  the  distracted  Theodora,  meeting  her 
other  lover  and  her  companion  in  evil-doing,  Ferdinand, 
attacks  him  vehemently,  with  these  words — 

'Theod.  Ha!     Ferdinand! 

Thou  hast  recalled  a  name  ! 
It  brings  some  dreadful  recollections. 
-  'Twas  he  who  basely  did  betray  my  husband. 


24  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Go,  wretched  man  !  bring  back  the  murdered  Camoens ! 

Go,  make  thy  peace.     {She  stabs  him.) 
BiAN.      Oh  !  help  ! 
Ferd.     1  bless  the  hand  that  gave  the  wound. 

Thou  hast  redeemed  me  from  a  deadly  sin, 

Or  mortal  suffering. 

Farewell,  beloved  unhappy  Theodora. 

Guard  her,  ye  pitying  angels  ! 
Theod.  Where  am  I  .? 

What  have  I  done  ? 

I  have  some  strange  impression  of  a  dream — 

A  fearful  dream  of  death. 

Young  Ferdinand,  who  loved  me  ! 

Dead — dead — and  by  this  desperate  hand  ! ' 


After  which  Clara  enters,  and  Theodora  dies,  complet- 
ing the  tragedy.  One  can  picture  the  force  and  energy 
with  which  Charlotte  would  have  poured  forth  her  re- 
proaches upon  the  head  of  Ferdinand,  before  giving  him 
the  fatal  stab. 

It  may  have  been  somewhere  about  this  time — it  was 
at  all  events  before  the  year  1842 — that  Charlotte  had 
once  a  scientific  fit,  and  for  several  weeks  threw  herself 
with  ardour  into  the  study  of  Chemistry.  At  intervals  in 
her  life  a  marked  interest  is  shown  in  certain  scientific 
facts  or  subjects ;  sufficient,  perhaps,  to  indicate  that,  had 
the  bent  been  cultivated,  she  might  possibly  have  shown 
some  measure  of  power  in  that  direction  also.  Books  on 
Natural  History  always  proved  an  attraction  to  her ;  and 
many  little  Natural  History  facts  come  incidentally  into 
her  correspondence,  sometimes  given  from  her  own  ob- 
servation. In  later  years  she  even  wrote  two  or  three 
little  books  for  children  on  semi-scientific  subjects, — not 
without  making  mistakes,  from  the  common  error  of 
trusting  to  old  instead  of  to  new  authorities.  But  the 
early  influences  with  which  she  was  surrounded  were  not 
of  a  kind  to  call  forth  this  tendency,  if  indeed  it  existed  in 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  25 

any  but  a  very  slight  degree.  Her  Father's  bent  was 
strongly  poetical  and  classical ;  and  probably  his  influence 
over  her  mind  in  girlhood  was  stronger  than  any  other. 
The  poetic  and  the  scientific  may,  and  sometimes  do,  exist 
side  by  side  ;  but  the  combination  is  not  very  usual. 

A  great  event  of  Charlotte's  young  days  was  the  fancy- 
dress  ball  given  by  her  parents  in  the  spring  of  1835. 
The  Duke  of  Wellington  himself  was  present ;  prominent 
still  in  the  minds  of  men  as  the  Deliverer  of  Europe,  only 
twenty  years  earlier,  from  a  tyrant's  thraldom.  All  the 
young  Tuckers,  not  to  speak  of  their  parents,  were  ardent 
admirers  of  the  Duke.  Laura,  still  a  mere  child,  in  her 
enthusiasm  slipped  close  up  behind,  when  the  Duke  was 
ascending  the  stairs,  and  gently  abstracted  a  fallen  hair 
from  the  shoulder  of  the  hero,  which  hair  she  preserved 
ever  after  among  her  choicest  treasures ;  and  Charlotte 
was  no  whit  behind  Laura  in  this  devotion. 

At  the  ball  Frances  made  her  appearance  dressed  as 
Queen  Elizabeth, — 'very  neat  and  very  stately,' — while 
Charlotte  represented  '  the  star  of  the  morning,'  in  a  dress 
of  pure  muslin,  full  and  well  starched,  so  nicely  made  and 
so  beautifully  white  that  the  impression  of  it  lasts  still  in 
the  mind  of  a  brother,  after  the  lapse  of  more  than  half  a 
century.  The  prettiness  of  her  dress  on  that  particular 
occasion  was  no  doubt  accentuated  by  the  fact  that  in 
general  Charlotte  did  not  attire  herself  becomingly;  and 
also  by  the  fact  of  another  young  lady  being  present  as  a 
second  'star  of  the  morning.'  For  the  other  'star'  had 
hired  a  dress  for  the  evening ;  a  muslin  dress,  which 
was  by  no  means  white,  but  dingy  and  tumbled.  In 
contrast,  Charlotte's  pure  whiteness,  relieved  by  a  star 
upon  her  forehead,  drew  much  attention.  Since  she  was 
then  only  a  girl  of  about  fourteen,  it  appears  that  a  close 
distinction  was  not  drawn  in  those  days,  as  in  these, 
between  girls  '  out '  and  girls  '  not  out.'     Her  brother,  St. 


26     LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

George,  a  boy  of  twelve  or  thirteen,  was  also  present, 
wearing  a  Highland  costume. 

The  hero  of  the  day  appeared  in  evening  dress,  accord- 
ing to  the  then  fashion,  with  a  star  on  his  breast.  Frances, 
in  her  queenly  apparel,  presented  him  with  a  bag  which 
contained  a  Commission  to  defend  England, — a  business 
which,  one  is  disposed  to  think,  he  had  already  pretty 
well  accomplished !  The  Duke  received  this  offering 
graciously ;  and  a  day  or  two  later  the  following  playful 
letter  arrived  from  him  to  Mr.  Tucker : — 

'  Strathfielusaye. 
Ap,  26,  1835. 

'  My  dear  Sir, — When  Queen  Elizabeth  gave  me  that  beautiful 
bag  on  Friday  night,  I  was  not  aware  that  it  contained  a  Letter 
Patent  which  I  prize  highly  ;  and  for  which  I  ought  to  have  returned 
my  grateful  acknowledgment  at  the  time  it  was  delivered. 

'  I  beg  you  to  present  my  thanks  ;  and  to  express  my  hopes  that 
her  Majesty  continued  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the  evening  ;  and 
that  she  has  not  been  fatigued  by  them. 

'  Ever,  my  dear  Sir, 

'  Your  most  faithful  humble  servant, 

(Signed) 'Wellington. 

'  H.  St.  George  Tucker,  Esq.,  etc' 

The  delight  and  enthusiasm  amongst  the  young  people, 
aroused  by  this  letter,  may  be  imagined.  It  seems  to  have 
come  later  into  the  possession  of  Charlotte  ;  and  when 
she  went  to  India  it  was  presented  by  her  to  her  sister 
Laura, — the  envelope  which  contained  it  having  in 
Charlotte's  handwriting  the  following  inscription  : — 

'  What  I  consider  one  of  my  most  valuable  possessions, 
and  therefore  send  to  my  beloved  Laura ^  to  whom  it  will 
recall  past  days! 


CHAPTER    III 

A.D.  1835- 1848 

EARLY  WRITINGS 

One  after  another  the  brothers  of  Charlotte  went  out  to 
India.  Henry  Carre,  the  eldest,  well  known  in  Indian 
story,  had  left  in  183 1,  when  she  was  only  ten  years  old  ; 
and  in  1835  her  particular  companion,  Robert,  went  also. 
He  was  a  tall,  handsome  young  fellow  ;  and  though  only 
eighteen  years  old,  he  had  already  done  well  in  his 
studies.  At  Haileybury  his  remarkable  abilities  won  him 
the  admiration  of  the  Professors  ;  and  at  his  last  examina- 
tion for  the  Civil  Service  he  signalised  himself  by  actually 
carrying  off /our  go\d  medals. 

Among  other  gifts  he  had  a  keen  touch  of  satire,  and  a 
power  of  easy  versification.  Some  of  the  early  verses 
preserved  show  considerable  power,  and  are  very  spirited 
as  well  as  amusing.  A  main  feature  of  his  character  was, 
however,  his  intense  earnestness.  He  was  of  the  same 
stern  and  heroic  cast  of  mind  as  Charlotte  herself;  with 
perhaps  less  fun  and  sparkle  to  lighten  the  sternness. 
Like  her,  he  was  markedly  self-reliant,  and  was  never 
known  to  lean  upon  the  opinion  of  others. 

With  all  Charlotte's  gaiety  and  merriment,  her  delight 
in  dancing  and  acting,  and  her  love  of  games,  there  was  a 
stern  side,  even  in  those  early  days,  to  her  girlish  nature  ; 
and  in  this  respect  she  and  Robert  were  well  suited  the 
one  to  the  other.     She  was,  as  one  says  who  knew  her  well, 

27 


28  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

'  a  born  heroine  ' ;  indeed,  both  she  and  Robert  were  of  the 
stuff  of  which  in  former  centuries  martyrs  have  been  made. 

At  what  date  Charlotte  first  began  to  think  seriously 
upon  religious  questions  it  is  not  possible  to  say.  Probably 
at  a  very  early  age.  Underlying  her  high  spirits  was  a 
stratum  of  deep  thought ;  and  strong  principle  seems 
almost  from  the  beginning  to  have  held  control  over  her 
life.  One  of  her  brothers  speaks  of  her  as  'always 
religious.'  She  may  have  thought  and  may  have  felt  to 
any  extent,  without  expression  in  words  of  what  she 
thought  or  felt.  The  innate  reticence,  which  veiled  so 
much  of  herself  from  others,  would  naturally  in  early 
years  extend  itself  to  matters  of  religion.  Later  in  life 
reserve  broke  down  in  that  direction  ;  but  silence  in  girl- 
hood was  no  proof  whatever  of  indifference. 

An  undated  letter  to  her  niece,  Miss  Laura  Veronica 
Tucker,  written  in  middle  life,  gives  us  something  of  a 
clue  here. 

'  I  am  much  interested  in  hearing  from  your  dear  Mother  that 
you  are  so  soon  to  take  upon  you  the  vows  made  for  you  in  Baptism, 
and  I  wish  specially  to  remember  you,  my  love,  in  prayer  on 
the  1 8th. 

'  To-morrow,  too,  you  attain  the  age  of  fifteen.  ...  I  was  about 
your  age,  dear  Laura,  when  the  feeling  of  being  His— of  indeed 
having  the  Saviour  as  my  own  Saviour,  came  upon  me  like  a  flood 
of  daylight.  I  was  so  happy  !  This  was  a  little  time  before  my 
Confirmation.  Though  I  have  often  often  done  wrong  since,  and 
shed  many  many  tears,  I  have  never  quite  lost  the  light  shed  on  me 
then,  and  now  it  brightens  all  the  future,  so  that  I  can  scarcely  say 
that  I  have  any  care  as  regards  myself — the  Lord  will  take  care  of 
me  in  advancing  age — in  the  last  sickness — in  what  is  called  death, 
(it  is  only  its  shadow).' 

To  the  majority  of  people  religious  conviction  and 
experience  come  as  daylight  comes  ;  not  in  one  sudden 
burst,  but  gradually,  heralded  by  grey  dawn,  slowly  un- 
folding into  brightness.     Brought  up  as  Charlotte  was  in 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  29 

an  atmosphere  of  kindness,  of  gentleness,  of  unselfish 
thought  for  others,  of  generosity,  of  high  principle,  and  of 
most  real  religion,  albeit  not  much  talked  about,  she 
would  naturally  imbibe  the  latter  almost  unconsciously, 
and  as  naturally  would  say  little.  The  spiritual  life, 
begun  early  in  her,  would  expand  and  develop  year 
by  year,  as  fresh  influences  came,  each  in  turn  help- 
ing to  shape  the  young  ardent  nature. 

She  was  essentially  independent ;  one  who  would  of 
necessity  think  questions  out  for  herself,  and  form  her 
own  opinions  ;  and  when  an  opinion  was  once  formed, 
she  would  act  in  accordance  with  that  opinion,  fearlessly 
and  conscientiously.  All  this  came  as  a  logical  result  of 
what  she  was  in  herself.  But  the  very  independence 
was  of  gradual  growth ;  and  side  by  side  with  it  existed 
always  a  spirit  of  beautiful  and  reverent  submission  to 
her  Father  and  Mother. 

Although  she  never  published  anything  during  her 
Father's  lifetime — whether  because  she  was  slow  to 
recognise  her  own  capabilities,  or  because  he  failed  to 
encourage  the  idea,  does  not  distinctly  appear, — her  pen 
was  often  busy.  A  small  magazine  or  serial  in  manuscript, 
for  family  use,  was  early  started  among  the  brothers  and 
sisters,  and  to  this,  as  might  be  expected,  Charlotte  was  a 
frequent  contributor. 

She  also  wrote  several  plays,  following  in  her  Father's 
footsteps ;  and  some  of  these  are  extant,  not  written  but 
exquisitely  printed  by  her  own  hand.  She  was  indeed  an 
adept  at  such  printing,  as  at  many  other  things  ;  and 
one  amusing  story  is  told  anent  this  particular  gift. 
About  1840,  when  her  brother  St.  George  was  at  Hailey- 
bury  College,  the  latter  wrote  an  essay,  which  was  copied 
for  him  by  Charlotte  in  small  printed  characters.  Where- 
upon a  rumour  went  through  the  College  that  one  of 
the  competitors  had  actually  had  his  essay  printed  for 


30  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

the  occasion.  Inquiries  were  made  ;  and  the '  printed  copy ' 
was  discovered  to  be  the  essay  of  Mr.  St.  George  Tucker. 
The  earHest  in  date  of  these  unpubhshed  plays,  com- 
posed for  the  entertainment  of  the  home-circle,  appears  to 
have  been  The  Iron  Mask ;  achieved  in  1839,  when  Char- 
lotte was  about  eighteen  years  old.  It  was  '  Dedicated, 
with  the  fondest  esteem  and  affection,  to  her  beloved 
Father,  Henry  St.  George  Tucker,  to  whom  she  is  indebted 
for  the  outline  of  the  characters  and  plot,  by  the  Author, 
Charlotte  Maria  Tucker.'  By  which  Dedication  may  be 
plainly  seen  that  Mr.  Tucker  encouraged  his  daughter's 
literary  bent,  so  far  as  actual  writing  went,  though  he  does 
not  seem  to  have  helped  her  into  print.  The  Preface  to  this 
early  work  is  quaint  enough  to  be  worth  quoting.  The 
young  Author  had  evidently  studied  Miss  Edgeworth's 
style. 

'  I  cannot  pretend  to  offer  that  most  common  excuse  of  Authors 
that  their  works  have  been  written  in  great  haste  and  consequently 
under  great  disadvantages.  I  have  been  a  considerable  time  about 
my  little  performance,  and  its  defects  are  not  owing  to  want  of  care 
or  attention  on  my  part. 

'  I  once  had  thoughts  of  myself  writing  a  Critique  on  The  Iron 
Mask,  to  show  that  I  am  sensible  of  its  faults,  though  I  do  not  think 
I  have  the  power  to  remove  at  least  all  of  them.  But  I  have  dropped 
the  idea,  and  am  determined  to  leave  them  to  be  found  out,  or 
perhaps  overlooked,  by  the  eye  of  partiality  and  affection.' 

The  play  is,  of  course,  historical,  and  is  of  considerable 
length.  One  short  quotation  may  be  given  as  a  specimen 
of  her  girlish  powers,  taken  from  Scene  II. 

•  Apartme7tt  in  the  Castle  of  Chateaurouge :  a  grated  window 
seen  in  the  background. 

The  Iron  Mask. 

'  The  glorious  Sun  hath  reached  the  farthest  west, 
And  clouds  transparent  tipt  with  living  fire 
Hang  o'er  his  glory,  bright'ning  to  the  close. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  31 

Now  gently-falling  dews  refresh  the  earth, 
And  pensive  Silence,  hand  in  hand  with  Night, 
Already  claims  her  reign. 

Another  day 
Has  past  !  another  weary  weary  day. 
And  I  am  so  much  nearer  to  my  grave  ! 
Oh  that  I  could,  like  yon  broad  setting  Sun, 
For  one  day  tread  the  path  of  Liberty, 
For  one  day  shine  a  blessing  to  my  Country, 
Then,  like  him,  set  in  glory  ! 

Still  come  they  not  ? — then  Chateaurouge  deceived  me  ! 
He  said  e'er  sunset  that  they  must  be  here, 
And  I  have  watched  from  the  first  blush  of  morn. 
Before  the  lark  his  cheerful  matins  sung, 
Before  the  glorious  traveller  of  the  skies 
Had  with  one  ray  of  gold  illumed  the  east. 
And  still  they  come  not ! — 'Tis  in  vain  to  watch,  , 

They  will  not  come  to-night ! — my  sinking  heart 
For  one  day  more  must  sicken  in  suspense.' 

The  writing  of  the  play  as  a  whole  is  unequal, — what 
girl  of  eighteen  is  not  unequal? — but  in  these  lines, as  well 
as  elsewhere,  there  are  tokens  of  genuine  power,  alike 
poetical  and  dramatic. 

Next  came,  in  the  year  1840,  The  Fatal  Vow ;  a 
Tragedy  in  Three  Acts  \  on  the  title-page  of  which  is 
found  a  dedication — 'To  Jane  Tucker  ;  the  Mother  who 
in  the  bloom  of  youth  and  beauty  devoted  herself  to  her 
children,  and  whose  tender  care  can  never  by  them  be 
repaid.'  The  play  was  written  in  less  than  two  months  ; 
its  scene  being  laid  in  Arabia,  while  the  characters  are  of 
Arabian  nationality.  It  is  an  ambitious  and  spirited  effort 
for  a  girl  under  twenty. 

Two  years  later  she  wrote  another,  The  Pretender ;  a 
Farce  in  Two  Acts;  respectfully  dedicated  to  'Fair 
Isabella,  the  Flower  of  the  East.'  This  witty  and  amusing 
little  farce  shall  be  given  entire  in  the  next  chapter,  as  a 
fair  example  of  what  she  was  able  to  accomplish  at  the 


32  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

age  of  twenty-one.  It  also  shows  conclusively  her  love  of 
fun,  and  the  manner  in  which  she  delighted  in  any  play 
upon  words. 

In  1842,  the  same  year  which  saw  her  produce  The  Pre- 
tender^ her  brother  St.  George  went  out  to  India ;  and  two 
years  later  a  paper  of  extracts  from  different  letters,  in  her 
handwriting,  records  the  sister's  loving  pride  in  the  warm 
opinions  sent  home  about  that  brother.  Also  the  same 
paper  contains  an  account  of  an  affair  in  which  he  was 
engaged  ;  but  the  said  account  not  being  correct  in  all 
details,  I  give  it  in  different  words. 

In  1844,  one  year  and  a  quarter  after  the  arrival  of  Mr. 
St.  George  Tucker  in  India,  he  volunteered  to  assist  his 
joint  magistrate,  Mr.  Robert  Thornhill,  to  capture  the 
celebrated  dacoit,^  Khansah.  Upon  the  receipt  of  further 
orders  from  his  chief  magistrate,  Mr.  Thornhill  decided 
not  to  make  the  attempt.  Mr.  Tucker,  however,  having 
volunteered,  thought  it  was  his  duty  to  go  ;  and  go  he 
did,  accompanied  by  a  Thannadar,^  four  horsemen,  and 
some  Burkandahs.  On  a  January  morning,  in  early 
dawn,  they  reached  the  village  in  which  the  dacoit  leader, 
Khansah,  was  supposed  to  be  concealed  ;  and  after  many 
inquiries  they  induced  an  alarmed  little  native  boy  to 
point  out  silently  which  hut  sheltered  Khansah. 

Leaving  the  horsemen  and  the  Burkandahs  outside,  Mr. 
Tucker  and  the  Thannadar  went  into  the  courtyard  of  the 
house.  In  the  darkness  of  the  entry  to  one  of  the  huts 
stood  Khansah,  holding  a  loaded  blunderbuss.  At  first 
he  was  unperceived  ;  but  suddenly  the  Thannadar  ex- 
claimed, '  There  he  is  ! '  and  as  Mr.  Tucker  turned  to  the 
right,  Khansah  fired  off  the  blunderbuss.  The  Thannadar 
dropped  dead ;  and  Mr.  Tucker's  right  arm  fell  helpless, 
from  a  wound  in  the  shoulder.  He  climbed  quickly  over 
the  low  walls  of  a  roofless  hut,  then  turned  about,  and 

1  One  of  a  band  of  robbers.  2  Chief  police-officer. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  33 

with  his  left  hand  steadying  the  right  hand  on  the  top  of 
the  outer  wall,  he  fired  his  pistol  at  the  dacoit, — and 
missed  him.  Mr.  Tucker  then  went  round  the  back  of 
the  hut  to  a  tree  which  stood  near  the  entrance ;  and 
shortly  afterward  Khansah  came  out,  calling — 'Kill  the 
Sahib  ! '  A  struggle  followed  between  Khansah  and  one 
of  the  native  police,  which  lasted  some  three  or  four 
minutes.  Then  Khansah,  having  apparently  had  enough, 
made  away  on  the  Thannadar's  pony ;  and  Mr.  Tucker, 
regaining  his  own  horse,  rode  back  to  the  station,  accom- 
panied by  the  Burkandahs  and  horsemen,  who  had  carefully 
kept  in  the  background  when  most  needed,  but  whose 
courage  returned  so  soon  as  the  peril  was  over. 

Eighteen  months  later  an  offer  was  made  by  Government 
of  ten  thousand  rupees  to  any  one  who  should  give  up 
Khansah, — the  dacoit  being  a  very  notorious  robber  and 
murderer.  His  own  relatives  responded  promptly  to  this 
appeal,  and  Khansah  speedily  found  himself  in  durance 
vile.  Mr.  Tucker  failed  to  identify  the  man  in  Court ; 
but  other  evidence  was  forthcoming,  and  Khansah,  being 
convicted,  was  hung.  Charlotte,  when  noting  down  par- 
ticulars of  the  above  stirring  episode,  observes :  *  We 
cannot  feel  too  thankful  to  a  merciful  God  for  my  precious 
George's  preservation.'  The  brief  account  which  she 
copied  out  from  the  letter  of  a  friend  in  India  ends 
with  these  words :  *  My  husband  tells  me  he  (Mr. 
Tucker)  acted  with  great  spirit,  and  showed  much  cool, 
determined  courage,  and  deserved  great  credit ;  but  from 
being  almost  a  stranger  to  the  habits  of  this  country,  he 
failed  in  his  attempt  to  capture  the  dacoit.' 

Another  paper  of  copied  extracts  has  a  particular  inter- 
est, because  it  seems  to  show,  even  then,  a  dawning  sense 
in  the  mind  of  Charlotte  Tucker  of  the  needs  of  heathen 
and  semi-heathen  lands.  The  sheet  is  dated  1 844  ;  and 
the  passages  are  selected  from  a  book  of  the  day,  called 
C 


34  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Savage  Life  and  Scenes.  But  probably  at  that  period 
nothing  was  further  from  her  dreams  than  that  she  herself 
would  ever  go  out  as  a  missionary  to  the  East. 

The  following  undated  letters  belong  to  the  years  1846-7. 
A  little  sentence  in  the  first,  as  to  the  solution  of  Mr. 
Tucker's  enigma,  is  very  characteristic  of  one  who  through 
life  was  always  peculiarly  ready  to  give  praise  to  others. 

TO   MISS   D.    LAURA  TUCKER. 

'  How  sweet,  good,  and  kind  you  are  !  I  hardly  know  how  to 
thank  you  and  dearest  Mother  for  such  notes  as  I  have  received  from 
both,  but  I  truly  feel  your  kindness  at  my  heart.  .  .  . 

*  My  eye  is  exceedingly  improved.  Such  a  fuss  has  been  made 
about  it  here  by  my  affectionate  Fannies,  that  one  might  suppose 
that,  like  your  friend  Polyphemus,  I  had  but  one  eye,  and  that  as 
rudely  treated  as  was  his  by  Ulysses. 

'We  think  that  the  solution  of  my  noble  Father's  enigma  is 
"  Glass  "  or  "  Mirror."  Fanny  was  the  first  to  imagine  this.  As  for 
going  to  Gresford  the  3rd  of  next  month,  I  do  not  wish  to  be  one 
of  the  party  at  all,  at  all !  I  calculate  that  Robin  will  then  have  been 
on  the  waves  76  days ;  and  though  I  do  not  expect  him  till  October, 

the  S may  be  a  fast  sailer,  and  fast  sailers  have  accomplished 

the  whole  voyage  in  about  that  time,  I  believe.  I  drink  the  port 
wine  which  Papa  brought  down,  which  I  hope  may  serve  instead  of 
bark.' 

TO  Miss  SIBELLA  J.   TUCKER. 

*  Having  concluded  my  reading  of  old  Russell,  how  can  I  do  better 
than  employ  the  interval  before  the  arrival  of  the  Indian  letters  in 
sitting  down  and  writing  to  my  fair  absent  sister  ?  Colonel  Sykes 
let  me  know  last  night  that  Robin  would  not  come  by  this  mail, 
which  was,  he  says,  only  from  Bombay,  so  that  letters  being  all  we 
must  expect  before  Saturday  fortnight,  you  need  not  hurry  home  on 
account  of  Robin's  return. 

'  Now  doubtless  you  would  like  to  hear  a  little  how  the  world  in 
Portland  Place  has  been  going  on  since  your  fair  countenance  dis- 
appeared from  our  horizon.     In  the  first  place  all  the  three  Misses 

are  coming.     A  comical  party  we  shall  have  !     There  has  been 

no  letter  from  Lord  Metcalfe  yet,  that  I  know  of.     We  had  a  very 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  35 

nice  evening  yesterday.  I  wish  that  yours  may  have  been  equally 
agreeable.  The  beginning  was  by  no  means  the  worst  part  of  it.  I 
dressed  early,  and  while  Mamma  and  Fanny  were  upstairs,  Charlie 
and  I  enjoyed  quite  a  stream  of  melody  from  my  dear  Father,  who 
sang  us  more  than  twenty  songs,  most  of  which  I  had  never  heard 
before.  I  wonder  that  he  did  not  sing  his  throat  quite  dry,  particu- 
larly after  a  Wednesday's  work.  I  must  now  write  Lautie  an 
account  of  the  Ball.' 


TO  MISS  D.   L.  TUCKER. 

'  Well,  dearest  Lautie,  we  had  a  nice  Ball  last  night.     There  were 

the  Vukeels    of  S ,  with  their  dark   intelligent    countenances, 

Colonel  Sykes,  your  friend,  who  is  really  becoming  quite  a  friend  of 
mine,  and  honest,  handsome  Sir  Henry  Pottinger,  the  very  look  of 
whom  does  one  good.  I  chatted  with  both  the  latter  amusing 
gentlemen,  and  heard  from  Sir  Henry  a  circumstantial  account  of 
his  attack  of  gout,  when,  he  said  :  "  I  felt  as  though  I  could  have 
roared  like  a  bull."  Sir  Henry  thinks  that  ladies  should  have  a  glass 
of  champagne  after  every  dance,  quadrille,  waltz,  or  polka  !  "  You 
would  see,"  said  he,  "if  my  plan  were  followed,  how  many  ladies 
would  come."  .  .  .  Papa  has  had  applications  for  cadetships  from 

Lord  Jocelyn  and  H T .      I  suppose  that  in  both  cases  it 

will  be,  "  I  wish  you  may  get  it  !"' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

'  We  have  had  such  an  amusing  breakfast.  Lord  Glenelg  was 
here.  And  he  and  Mamma  have  been  making  us  laugh  so, — he  with 
his  quiet  jokes,  and  dear  Mamma  with  her  naivete.  Mamma  very 
freely  criticised  Sir  R.  Peel's  and  Lord  John  Russell's  manner  of 
speaking,  to  the  great  amusement  of  our  guest,  who  threw  out  a  hint 
that  he  might  inform,  and  that  Mamma  had  compromised  herself. 
"  It  would  be  rather  awkward,"  he  observed,  "  if  I  were  to  sit 
beside  Sir  Robert  this  evening,^  after  what  has  passed"  ;  and  when- 
he  heard  that  Sir  Robert  waS  not  to  be  present,  he  hinted  that 
Mamma  was  in  the  same  danger  in  regard  to  Lord  John  Russell. 
"  But  if  I  tell  him  that  he  opens  his  mouth  too  wide,"  said  Lord 
Glenelg,  "  he  may  think  I  mean  that  he  eats  too  much  ! " 

1  At  the  Official  East  India  Company's  dinner,  given  by  the  Directors  ;  ladies 
being  admitted  to  a  gallery  as  spectators. 


36  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

'  I  am  sure  that  our  guest  enjoyed  his  morning's  gossip,  and  it 
gave  us  all  a  merry  commencement  to  what  I  hope  may  be  a  very 
enjoyable  though  rather  anxious  day.  Tudor  is  to  take  luncheon 
with  us,  so  we  have  amusement  provided  for  that  meal  also  ;  and 
what  a  business  it  will  be  in  the  evening  !  Such  a  phalanx  of 
ladies  as  dear  Mother  is  to  head.  The  Misses  Cotton,  two  Misses 
Galloway,  two  Misses  Shepherd,  Miss  Kensington,  and  our  three 
selves,  all  to  set  off  from  No.  3  !  It  will  look  like  a  nocturnal 
wedding. 

'  I  have  just  come  in  from  paying  a  round  of  visits,  with  a  card  of 
admission  in  my  hand.  .  .  .  My  hand  trembles  with  the  heat,  for  it 
is  warm  walking  at  this  hour,  and  I  always  walk  fast  when  I  walk 
in  the  streets  alone.  I  look  forward  with  much  pleasure  to  the 
evening's  entertainment.  I  only  wish  that  you  and  dear  Bella 
could  enjoy  it  too ;  but  I  hope  that  your  dinner  in  Septem- 
ber may  afford  you  as  much  gratification  as  this  would  have 
done.  .  .  . 

'  We  .  .  .  went  to  Mrs.  Bellasis'  Ball  last  night.  Mamma  and  I 
thought  it  a  nice  one,  but  considered  it  very  dull.  The  East- 
wicks  were  not  there,  but  your  friend.  Colonel  Sykes,  appeared,  with 
his  stern  bandit-like  countenance.  He  so  reminds  me  of  you  !  His 
fair  lady  and  sons  were  also  there.  .  .  .  Sir  de  Lacy  and  Lady  Evans, 
the  Hinxmans  and  Galloways  were  also  at  the  Ball. 

*  How  are  the  dear  little  Robins  ?  I  hope  that  we  may  soon  have 
them  with  us  again.  Pray  give  them  plenty  of  kisses  from  Auntie 
Charlotte.  ...  I  hope  dear  Robin  got  home  comfortably.' 

Some  of  the  above-mentioned  names  were  of  men  well 
and  widely  known.  Lord  Metcalfe,  at  one  time  Acting 
Governor-General  of  India,  was  a  wise  and  most  courteous 
Indian  statesman,  whose  life  has  been  written  by  Sir  John 
Kaye.  Colonel  Sykes  was  one  year  Chairman  of  the 
Court  of  Directors.  Sir  Henry  Pottinger  was  a  famous 
diplomatist.  Lord  Glenelg,  living  near,  was  often  in  and 
out,  and  loved  to  have  a  cup  of  tea  at  hospitable  No.  3. 

The  habit  of  the  family  at  this  time,  while  spending  the 
main  part  of  the  year  at  Portland  Place,  was  to  go  to  some 
country  place  in  the  summer,  for  several  weeks,  sometimes 
renting  a  house  where  they  could  stay  all  together,  some- 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  37 

times  breaking  into  smaller  parties.  In  1846  they  were 
at  Heme  Bay  ;  in  1 847  at  Gresford  ;  in  1 848  at  Dover  and 
Walmer.  While  at  Walmer  they  were  a  good  deal  thrown 
with  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  the  former  acquaintance- 
ship ripened  into  more  of  intimacy.  Before  deciding  on 
Walmer,  two  or  three  of  the  party  went  to  Dover,  and  they 
had  a  somewhat  perilous  voyage  thither,  to  which  the 
following  letter  makes  allusion  : — 

TO   MISS   D,    LAURA  TUCKER. 

'  I  hope  that  you  will  all  write  us  very  affectionate  letters  of  con- 
gratulation on  our  escape  from  the  waves.  How  talented  it  was  in 
Mamma  to  manage  to  send  us  letters  so  soon  !  We  had  no  idea  of 
hearing  from  home  by  6  o'clock  on  Monday  morning.  We  are  all 
quite  well.  I  was  not  well  yesterday  morning, — I  imagine  from  the 
effects  of  our  adventure  ;  but  I  am,  like  the  rest  of  our  dear  party, 
quite  well  to-day. 

'  We  are  to  set  out  in  a  pony-chaise  for  Walmer,  to  see  about  a 
house.  Papa  is  to  drive,  and  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  we  shall  have 
a  delightful  little  excursion. 

'The  immense  cliff  is  a  great  objection  to  Dover.  Unless  we 
undergo  the  great  fatigue  of  getting  up  it,  we  should  be  quite 
prisoners.  Walmer  is  much  flatter.  We  are  anxious  to  hear  what 
has  become  of  the  poor  Emerald.  She  landed  us  here  on  Saturday 
morning,  and  proceeded  on  her  perilous  journey  at  about  five  in  the 
afternoon.  Papa  saw  the  carpenter's  wife,  who  told  him  that  the 
leak  could  not  be  got  at  because  of  the  coals,  that  they  would  not  get 
to  Boulogne,  but  must  return  in  two  hours.  The  poor  woman's 
husband  was  in  the  vessel.  She  said  that  her  eyes  were  tired  with 
looking  at  the  steamer,  but  philosophically  observed  that  those  who 
are  doomed  to  sup  salt  water  must  sup  it.  The  Emerald  has  not 
returned,  however.  It  is  probable  that  she  has  put  in  to  some  other 
port.  I  should  like  to  hear  about  her  fate.  I  should  feel  for  our  kind 
sailor. 

'  My  darling  Papa  has  rather  taken  fright  at  Mamma's  letter.  He 
fears  that  she  is  not  well,  that  she  has  been  hysterical  at  the  thought 
of  our  danger,  and  seems  anxious  to  go  up  to  London  himself,  in 
order  to  assist  her  and  see  about  her.  Fanny  and  I  expostulate.  He 
is  the  best  of  husbands  and  fathers.     I  hope,  however,  that  dearest 


38   LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

Mamma  is  not  unwell,  and  that  the  sea-air  may  do  her  good  and 
strengthen  her.  Another  objection  to  Dover  is  that  the  voyage  is 
likely  to  be  rougher  to  it  than  to  Walmer.  Walmer  is  not  situated 
so  near  that  terrible  South  Foreland.  .  .  .  This  is  Papa's  opinion,  but 
we  cannot  decide  till  we  see  Walmer.' 

Further   particulars   of  the   adventure  alluded   to   are 
unfortunately  not  forthcoming. 


CHAPTER    IV 

A   FARCE   OF   GIRLISH   DAYS 
THE  PRETENDER ; 

A  FARCE  IN  TWO  ACTS  ;  by  CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER. 

Characters : — 

Colonel  Stumpley. 
Charles. 
Daresby. 

Corporal  Catchup. 
Weasel— A  Butler. 
O'Shannon— A  Soldier. 
Mrs.  Judith  Rattleton. 
Miss  Sophia  Rattleton. 
Miss  Barbara  Rattleton. 
Miss  Horatia  Rattleton. 

Scene  laid  in  Northumberland^  in  and  near  the  house  of  Mrs. 
Judith. 

ACT   I. 

SCENE  I. 

the  highroad  before  MRS.  JUDITH'S  HOUSE. 

Enter  Charles. 

Charles.  A  cold,  wet,  and  misty  evening,  and  above  all  to  one 

whose  pockets  are  not  lined  !     My  foolish  fancy  for  the  Stage  has 

brought  me  to  a  declining  stage,  if  not  a  stage  of  decline.     Heigh 

ho  !  how  dark  it  is  getting  !    Just  the  sort  of  place  to  meet  with  a 


40  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

ghost  of  Hamlet,  not  the  sort  of  hamlet  that  I  'm  looking  after,  for  I 
have  done  with  theatrical  effects, — I  wish  that  I  had  done  with  the 
effects  of  cold.  How  dark  and  gloomy  that  church  steeple  looks  over 
the  trees  !  I  'm  close  to  a  churchyard,  I  suppose.  And — ey  !  ey  ! 
what  on  earth  are  those  white  things  upon  the  grass  ?  Clothes  put  out 
to  dry  ;  what  an  ass  I  was  not  to  see  that  before  !  but  fasting  makes 
one  nervous.  There's  a  house.  How  cheerful  the  lights  look  in  it ! 
I  hear  the  sound  of  a  piano  going.  There  must  be  ladies  there,  and 
ladies  are  ever  good  and  kind.  What  if  I  were  to  try  my  fortune  at 
the  door?  My  poor  namesake  Prince  Charlie  must  have  put 
wanderers  into  fashion.  Northumberland  is  near  enough  to  Scotland 
to  have  imbibed  a  little  of  its  spirit  of  romance.  Poor  Prince  !  we  are 
fellows  in  misfortune  as  we  were  partners  in  ambition.  We  both 
sought  to  play  the  King,  I  on  the  boards,  he  in  Britain ;  but  his 
frea-king  and  my  moc-king  are  both  changed  to  aching  on  the  moors, 
and  a  skul-king  too,  which  makes  us  as  thin  as  skeletons.  I  '11  try 
and  muster  up  courage  for  a  knock.     \Knocks.'\ 

I  should  not  look  the  worse  for  a  new  coat,  I  think.  My  knee- 
ribbons  are  bleached  quite  pale  with  the  wind  and  the  rain.  Mais 
nHjtiporte  !  the  man,  the  man  remains  the  same  !  These  locks  have 
proved  the  keys  to  a  Lady's  heart  e'er  now ;  and  then  wit  and  elo- 
quence !  When  I  was  flogged  at  school  for  affirming  that  a  furbelow 
must  be  an  article,  as  I  knew  it  to  be  an  article  of  dress,  my  Master 
observed  that  all  my  brains  lay  at  the  root  of  my  tongue  ;  and  the 
best  position  for  them  too,  say  I  !  Who  would  keep  a  prompter  to 
bellow  to  one  from  the  top  of  the  Monument,  and  where 's  the  use  of 
carrying  one 's  brains  so  high,  that  one  must  send  a  carrier  pigeon 
express  for  one's  thoughts  before  one  can  express  them  at  all  ?  Better 
have  wit  to  cover  ignorance,  than  silence  to  conceal  sense.  One 
can't  squint  into  a  man's  head  to  see  what  it  contains.  Here  comes 
a  light  to  the  door  :  now  for  the  encounter. 

Weasel  opens  the  door. 

Is  Mrs.  {coughs]  at  home  ?  Pray  present  my  compliments  to  her, 
and  say  that  a  gentleman  who  has  lost  his  way  entreats  the  favour  of 
shelter  for  a  night  under  her  hospitable  roof. 

Weasel.  Shall  I  take  up  your  name,  Sir  ? 

Charles.  No,  Sir,  you  may  take  up  my  words.  {^Exit  Weasel.] 
Had  the  fellow  been  a  Constable  he  might  have  taken  me  up  also, 
for  in  this  apparel  I  look  more  like  a  highwayman  than  a  gentle- 
man in  a  highway.  How  very  cold  it  is  !  I  wish  that  the  triangular- 
nosed  fellow  would  make  haste  ;    and  yet  my  heart  misgives  me. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  4I 

I  must  '  screw  my  courage  to  the  sticking  point ! '  Impudence, 
impudence  is  my  passport !  I  hear  him  shuffling  downstairs.  Be 
hardy,  bold,  and  resolute,  my  heart. 

Weasel  opens  the  door. 

Weasel.  Sir,  my  Mistress  begs  you  to  walk  up. 
Charles.  Go  on,  go  on,  I  '11  follow  thee  !    \Exeuiit^ 


SCENE   II. 

the  parlour  of  mrs.  judith's  house. 

Charles.    Mrs.  Judith.    The  Misses  Sophia,  Barbara, 
and  HoRATiA  Rattleton. 

Charles.  For  all  this  unmerited  kindness,  most  kind  and  fair 
ladies,  a  lonely  wanderer  can  only  return  you  thanks. 
\The young  Ladies  whisper  together^ 

Sophia.  Handsome,  isn't  he  ? 

HORATIA.  Such  a  flow  of  eloquence,  such  a  command  of  lan- 
guage. 

Barbara.  I  wonder,  Ratty,  who  he  is. 

Mrs.  Jud.  Do  you  come  from  the  North,  Sir  ? 

Charles.  I  have  spent  the  last  few  months  there,  Madam,  though 
I  was  not  born  in  Scotland.  They  were  unfortunate  months  to  me. 
I  came  to  England  on  my  Company's  being  broken  up. 

HORATIA.  Your  Company  !  did  you  serve  King  George .? 

Charles.  No,  Miss,  I  tried  to  serve  myself. 

HORATIA.  {Aside  to  Barbara^   Strange,  is  it  not  ? 

Sophia.  Why  was  your  company  broken  up  ? 

Charles.  Because  we  were  not  able  to  raise  a  Sovereign  amongst 
us.     We  were  sadly  cut  up. 

HORATIA.  \Eagerly^  By  the  Dragoons  ? 

Charles.   {Laughing^   Do  not  inquire  too  closely,  fair  Lady. 

Mrs.  Jud.  May  I  ask  your  name,  Sir? 

Charles.  Charles  Stu—  [Aside.]    Ass  that  I  am  ! 

Mrs.  Jud.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir,  I  did  not  hear  you. 

Charles.  [Aside.]  The  first  word  that  comes  !  [A/ot^d.]  Dapple, 
Madam,  Dapple.  [Aside.]  I  might  have  hit  on  a  more  romantic  name, 
but  my  brain  seems  in  a  whirl. 

HORATIA.  It  is  a  very  curious  study  to  trace  the  derivations  .  .  . 

Mrs.  Jud.  Any  way  related  to  the  Dapples  of  .  .  . 


42  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Sophia.  Down,  Adonis,  down  !  your  dirty  little  paws  .  .  . 

HORATIA.  One  would  suppose  them  sometimes  prophetical  of 
future  events.     Who  can  deny  that  Hanover  .  .  . 

Barbara.  Our  family  name  of  .  .  . 

HORATIA.  {Raising  her  voice.']  Who  can  deny  that  Hanover  has  a 
great  resemblance  to  Hand-over,  or  that  Cumberland  is  as  just  a 
denomination  for  the  bloody  Duke  as  if  .  .  . 

Sophia.  Pretty  little  pet  he  is,  is  he  not .? 

Barbara.  Our  family  name  of  Rattleton  is  said  to  be  derived 
from  a  famous  Ancestor  of  ours,  a  chief  of  the  ancient  Britons  .  .  . 

Mrs,  Jud.  My  Cousin  by  the  Mother's  side  .  .  . 

Barbara.  Whose  head  being  cleft  from  his  shoulders  as  he  was 
driving  his  chariot  into  the  thickest  of  .  .  . 

Mrs.  Jud.  The  family  of  the  Goslings  ... 

HORATIA.  Also  passionately  fond  of  Heraldry  .  .  . 

Barbara.  His  spirit  seemed  unconquered  even  by  the  blow  which 
decapitated  him,  and  he  drove  on  .  .  . 

Horatia.  a  Lion  rampant  over  6  grasshoppers  .  .  . 

Barbara.  Whence  our  name  of  Rattle-ton  or  Rattle-on  is  said  to 
be  derived. 

Charles.  {Aside.]  This  is  beyond  endurance.  They  stun  me. 
What  a  nest  of  parrots  I  am  in  !     I  cannot  get  in  a  word. 

Horatia.  Thus,  Sir,  your  name  of  .  .  .  I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir,  it 
has  slipped  my  memory. 

Charles.  {Aside.]   Hang  me,  if  it  has  not  fairly  bolted  from  mine  ! 

Mrs.  Jud.  Mr.  Charles  Dapple. 

Charles.  {Aside.]  I'll  change  the  conversation.  {To  Horatia.] 
You  seem  much  devoted,  Miss,  to  scientific  pursuits. 

Horatia.  O,  they  are  my  delight,  my  recreation  !  Ornithology, 
Mythology,  Geology,  Conchology,  fascinate  me.  I  was  first  given  my 
taste  for  the  higher  branches  of  these  intellectual  sciences  by  .  .  . 

Sophia.  Mr.  Dapple,  have  you  remarked  my  pretty  little  .  .  . 

Horatia.  My  Uncle  in  the  Scilly  Isles,  whose  mind  .  .  . 

Sophia.  Have  you  remarked  .  .  . 

Horatia.  A  profound  genius  .  .  . 

Sophia.  My  little  poodle,  Adonis  ? 

Horatia.  By-the-by,  Mr.  Dapple,  may  I  ask  your  opinion  on  a 
much  disputed  point,  where  I  venture  to  differ  even  from  my  Uncle  ? 
What  do  you  think  of  the  Aerolites  ? 

Charles.  {Turning  to  Sophia.]  A  sweet  little  dog,  indeed  :  what 
fine  eyes ! 

Horatia.  Do  you  think  them  .  . 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  43 

Charles.  The  little  pink  ribbon  round  its  neck  is  so  becoming. 

HORATIA.  {Raising  her  voice.]  Mr.  Dapple,  Mr.  Dapple,  do  you 
think  the  Aerolites  .  .  . 

Charles.  [Aside.]  Help  me,  my  mother-wits  ! 

HORATIA.  Do  you  agree  in  the  generally  received  opinion  .  .  . 

Charles.  [Aside.]  Some  political  party  perhaps  ! 

HORATIA.  Or  do  you  think  them  .  .  . 

Charles.  Why,  ma'am,  I  think — I — I  am  decidedly  of  opinion — 
that— that— the  .  .  . 

Horatia.  The  Aerolites  ... 

Charles.  Are  nothing  more  or  less  than  Jacobites. 

All  the  Ladies.  Jacobites  ! 

Horatia.  Why,  Sir,  I  always  thought  them  a  sort  of  stone  .  .  . 

Charles.  Stone-fruit,  true,  true  ;  I  spoke  without  thinking.  Stone- 
fruit,  a  species  of— of — apricots. 

Barbara.  Hark,  there  is  a  knock  at  the  door.  Peep  through 
the  shutters,  Ratty,  and  see  who  it  is. 

Charles.  [Aside.]  A  little  diversion  for  me.  I  am  growing  so 
hot.     Silence  to  cover  sense  would  in  this  case  ... 

Horatia.  'Tis  old  Colonel  Stumply. 

Charles.  [Starting  up.]     Colonel  Stumply  !  I  'm  dished. 

The  Ladies.  Why— what— who 

Charles.  Perhaps  you  will  permit  me,  ladies,  to  retire.  I  feel 
indisposed — faint !     [Exit.] 

Mrs.  Jud.  I  must  go  and  welcome  my  old  friend.     [Exit.] 

Horatia.  Bab  ! 

Barbara.  Ratty ! 

Horatia.  What  a  flash  of  electricity  has  burst  on  my  intellect  ! 

Sophia.  His  noble  air ;  his  wan  features  .  .  . 

Horatia.  A  fugitive  ... 

Sophia.  A  wanderer  .  .  . 

Horatia.  His  sudden  alarm  .  .  . 

Sophia.  [Rushing  into  her  arms.]  O  Ratty,  Ratty,  what  a  day  ! 
what  an  honour  !  what  a  surprise  ! 

Barbara.  How  now,  what's  the  matter? 

Horatia.  Brain  of  adamant !  could  not  instinct  direct  you  to 
the  feet  of  your  adored  Prince  ? 

Barbara.  The  Prince  !     Is  it  possible? 

Sophia.  Charlie  !  Charlie  !     O  !  what  a  moment ! 

Horatia.  Did  you  not  hear  him  describe  the  ruin  of  his  army  .  .  . 

Sophia.  Did  you  not  hear  'Charles  Stew—'  upon  his  noble 
tongue  .  .  . 


44  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

HORATIA.  How  he  started  when  he  recollected  himself  .  .  . 

Sophia.  And  O,  how  exquisitely  pathetic,  how  touchingly  appro- 
priate, the  name  he  gave  instead  !  Dapple  ;  to  signify  how  his 
fortunes  are  chequered — Dapple  .  . 

Barbara.  How  the  Jacobites  were  running  in  his  head  when  he 
even  .  .  . 

Sophia.  Little  reason  had  he  to  fear  us.  If  Daresby  had  been 
here  .  .  . 

Barbara.  And  this  vile  Colonel :  no  wonder  he  started  off! 

Sophia.  What  shall  we  do  to  get  rid  of  him? 

HoRATiA.  All  that  woman  ever  attempted  I  am  ready  to  perform. 

Sophia.  I  would  die  for  him. 

Barbara.  And  I  too. 

Sophia.  The  handsome,  brave,  dear,  darling  young  Prince  !  And 
to  think  that  Daresby 's  a  Whig  ! 

Enter  Mrs.  Judith  and  Col.  Stumply. 

Col.  Good  evening,  young  Ladies,  good  evening.  I  have  just 
returned  from  the  North,  where  we  are  everywhere  triumphant, 
and  our  laurels  should  ensure  us  a  welcome  from  beauty.  '  None 
but  the  brave,  none  but  the  brave  deserve  the  fair,'  you  know.  Hey, 
Miss  Sophy? 

Sophia.  [Aside.]  Monster ! 

HORATIA.  [Aside.]  Traitor  ! 

Barbara.  [Aside.]  Butcher  ! 

Col.  What,  all  silent  and  aghast?  I  shall  begin  to  fear  myself 
unwelcome.  Hey,  Mrs.  Judith  ?  But  my  Regiment  is  quartered  for 
the  night  in  the  village,  and  I  was  sure  that  I  might  throw  myself 
on  the  hospitality  of  an  old  friend. 

Mrs.  Jud.  We  are  delighted  to  see  you. 

Col.  Is  your  little  room  unoccupied  to-night  ? 

Mrs.  Jud.  To  tell  the  truth  there  is  a  young  .  .  . 

HORATIA.  [Aside.]  I  could  beat  her  !  [Aloud.  ]  It  is  quite  unoccu- 
pied. Sir,  except — except  in  this  cold  weather  we  keep  the  pigs  there. 

Col.  The  pigs  ! 

Mrs.  Jud.  Why,  Ratty  .  .  . 

HORATIA.  Oh,  it  is  not  fit  to  receive  you,  Sir.  The  chimney 
tumbled  in  during  the  last  gale  ... 

Mrs.  Jud.  Why,  Ratty  .  .  . 

HORATIA.  And  every  pane  of  glass  is  broken. 

Sophia.  [Aside  to  Barbara.]  O  Bab,  such  lying  can  never  thrive. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  45 

Mrs.  Jud.  What  strange  non  .  .  . 

HORATIA.  [Aside.]  How  on  earth  can  I  stop  her  tongue? 
[Aloud.]  Aunt,  Aunt,  is  there  any  supper  prepared  for  the  Colonel? 

Col.  Anything ;  anything ;  the  cold  ride  has  sharpened  my 
appetite  ;  but  a  good  blaze  like  this  cheers  the  heart,  and  gives  me 
courage  to  face  even  the  pigs.  Miss  Ratty  ! 

Mrs.  Jud.  The  pigs !  why  .  .  . 

HORATIA.  Would  you  like  to  see  that  everything  is  comfortable 
yourself,  Aunt  ?    [Aside.]  I  am  in  a  fever  ! 

Col.  Turn  out  the  pigs,  hey,  Mrs.  Judith? 

Mrs.  Jud.  If  I  ever  .  .  . 

HORATIA.  Go,  dear  Aunt,  precious  Aunt,  do  go. 

Sophia.  A  nice  little  dish  of  your  own  making  would  be  so 
acceptable. 

Barbara.  We'll  take  care  of  the  Colonel. 

Mrs.  Jud.  I  cannot  com — pre — hend — I [T^e  girls  halflead^ 

half  push  her  oul.] 

Col.  You  will  excuse  me,  young  ladies  ;  I  always  make  a  point  of 
looking  after  my  horse  myself.     [Exit.] 

Horatia.  [Sinking  on  a  chair.]  I  am  exhausted.  Stupid  sticks, 
why  did  you  not  assist  me? 

Sophia.  I  tried,  but  .  .  . 

Barbara.  What  shall  we  do  now  ? 

Sophia.  My  heart  beats  so,  I  shall  expire. 

Barbara.  The  Colonel  will  stay  in  spite  of  the  pigs. 

Sophia.  Where  can  we  hide  the  Prince  ? 

Horatia.  [Starting  up.]    A  thought  has  struck  me. 

Sophia.  What,  what  ? 

Horatia.  You  shall  hear — it  has  been  done  before.  You  will  aid 
me  in  the  execution  of  it. 

Sophia.  [Throwing  herself  info  her  arms.]    O  my  Ratty  ! 

Horatia.  We  will  save  him. 

Barbara.  We  will,  we  will ! 

Horatia.  Or  perish  with  him. 

Sophia.  We  will. 

Horatia.  Come,  come,  no  time  is  to  be  lost ;  let  us  fly  to  his 
succour. 

'  Come  weal,  come  woe. 
We  '11  gather  and  go, 
And  live  or  die  wi'  Charlie  ! ' 


46  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

SCENE  III. 

A  CHURCHYARD  BY  MOONLIGHT. 

Enter  Charles,  Sophia,  Barbara,  and  Horatia. 

Charles.  Where  on  earth  are  you  taking  me  ? 

Sophia.  To  safety,  to  safety. 

Barbara.  We  know  all. 

Charles.  You  know  all } 

Horatia.  Your  name,  your  situation  .  .  . 

Charles.  Then  you  must  know  that  the  coming  of  the  Colonel  is 
hangably  inconvenient  to  me. 

Sophia.  We  tremble  at  your  danger. 

Horatia.  We  will  defend  you  with  our  lives. 

Charles.  Excessively  kind,  but  it  is  not  quite  come  to  that  yet. 
A  kick  or  a  caning  .  .  . 

Sophia.  You  make  us  shudder. 

Charles.  But  I  do  not  like  promenading  at  this  hour  in  winter  ! 
Is  it  a  country  fashion?  I  am  very  cold,  and  tired,  and  sleepy,  and 
I  would  rather  retire  to  rest. 

Horatia.  Here  then  we  have  arrived  at  the  spot.  Descend,  and 
you  will  find  a  bed  prepared  for  you. 

Charles.  Descend  !  why,  hang  me  if  it  isn't  a  vault ! 

Sophia.  If  it  would  please  you  to  descend  .  .  . 

Charles.  Please  me,  you  barbarous  witches  !  would  it  please 
any  one  to  be  buried  alive  ?    What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ? 

Barbara.  The  only  way  to  preserve  your  rights  .  .  . 

Charles.  Rites,  do  you  call  these  rites  ?  They  are  very  inhuman 
rites.  Anything  but  the  rites  of  hospitality.  To  offer  a  stranger 
the  shelter  of  your  roof,  and  then  make  his  bed  in  a  vault !  This  is 
your  spare-room,  is  it  ?  If  I  had  guessed  what  you  meant  to  do  with 
your  guest,  I  would  not  have  troubled  you  with  my  company. 

Horatia.  O,  for  your  Country's  sake  .  .  . 

Charles.  My  Country's  sake  !  what  good  can  it  do  my  Country  ? 
I  know  your  motives,  you  scientific  Monster  !  you  want  to  make  a 
petrifaction  of  me. 

Horatia.  Is  it  possible  that  a  treatment  so  .  .  . 

Charles.  A  treat  meant  is  it  1  If  you  mean  it  for  a  treat,  I  assure 
you  that  I  do  not  consider  it  as  one.  You  may  go  in  yourself  and 
enjoy  it. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  47 

Barbara.  So  short  a  space  .  .  . 

Charles.  A  very  short  space  I  can  see,  and  a  very  narrow  space 
too.     I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  get  into  it ! 

Horatia.  Who  could  have  expected  opposition  from  such  a 
quarter  ? 

Sophia.  Can  the  Hero  shrink  from  so  small  a  trial  of  his  con- 
stancy ?     Oh,  descend,  descend,  and  we  will  admire  .  .  . 

Charles.  Add  mire,  you  cruel  wretches  !  is  there  not  enough  at 
the  bottom  already  ? 

Horatia.  We  would  preserve  you. 

Charles.  Didn't  I  say  so  1  Some  inhuman  experiment !  But 
I  '11  not  be  preserved  to  please  you,  not  I. 

Sophia.  {Throwing  herself  at  his  feet^    O  noblest  of  men  !  doubt 
not  our  fidelity  !  yield  to  our  agonized  entreaties  ! 
\The  others  kneel.'] 

Charles.  Yield,  indeed  !  I  beg  you  will  rise,  fair  Ladies.  I  know 
not  if  you  are  jesting  ;  'tis  but  a  cold  jest  to  me.  As  for  entering 
that  vault,  you  may  kill  me  before  you  bury  me,  for  while  I  'm  alive 
I'll  not  go,  Ladies  ;  I  say  I  will  not  go. 

Horatia.  Then  we  must  leave  him  to  his  fate. 

Charles.  Leave  me,  leave  me,  all  alone  in  a  churchyard. 
Ladies,  ladies,  for  pity's  sake  .  .  . 

Horatia.  I  am  beside  myself. 

Charles.  Remain  then  beside  me.  Or  rather,  why  cannot  we 
return  to  the  house  ?  I  am  half  frozen  with  cold  and  .  .  .  and  excite- 
ment ! 

Barbara.  You  forget  the  Colonel. 

Charles.  The  Colonel.  O,  is  that  all  ?  Can't  you  hide  me  in 
some  quiet  corner  ? 

Horatia.  I  have  it !  the  storeroom. 

Barbara.  But  if  a  search  should  be  made  ? 

Charles.  Search  !  who  '11  search  ?  The  storeroom  is  the  very 
place.     Come,  come,  the  air  is  piercing  ;  come. 

Barbara.  This  way  ;  by  the  kitchen  door. 

Charles.  Once  more  into  the  house,  dear  friends,   once  more. 

[Exit.] 

Horatia.  Is  this  the  Prince?  the  Hero? 

Sophia.  O  Ratty  !  our  duty  remains  the  same  !    {Exeunt.] 


48  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

ACT   II. 

SCENE  I. 

the  parlour. 

Colonel  Stumply.    Weasel. 

Col.  Good-morrow,  Weasel.  An  old  campaigner,  youj  see,  learns 
to  be  an  early  riser. 

Weasel.  I  wish  your  honour  a  good  morning.  I  hope  you  found 
your  room  comfortable. 

Col.  Most  comfortable.  No  traces  of  the  pigs,  ha,  ha  !  none  the 
worse  for  the  chimney-top  ;  ha,  ha,  ha  !  That  Comet  has  a  tail,  I 
guess.  Well,  Weasel,  how  has  all  gone  on  these  two  years,  since  I 
last  found  myself  at  Rattleton  Hermitage  ?     Hey  ? 

Weasel.  Much  the  same  as  usual,  your  honour.  Our  only  varieties 
are  Dr.  Daresby  and  the  rheumatics  ;  till  last  night  when  .  .  . 

Col.  The  girls — the  young  Ladies  seem  much  grown,  much 
improved. 

Weasel.  O,  for  the  matter  of  that,  yes,  though  Miss  Ratty's 
sadly  taken  up  with  the  books,  d  'ye  see.  She  's  poring  all  day  long 
over  a  lot  of  different  sorts  of  learnings  ;  I  don't  remember  their 
names,  but  they  all  ends  in  oddity.  Then  she's  an  out  and  out 
Jacobite,  and  thumps  the  piano  when  she  sings  'Charlie  is  my 
darling,'  as  though  she  took  it  for  a  Whig.  Indeed,  your  honour, 
last  night  .  .  . 

Col.  And  Miss  Barbara? 

Weasel.  She 's  quiet  like,  Sir.  She  's  never  off  her  chair  stitch- 
ing away.  They  says,  your  honour,  that  she  makes  holes  on  purpose 
to  sew  them  up  again,  d  'ye  see  ? 

Col.  Sophy — Miss  Rattleton  is  a  charming  girl. 

Weasel.  Ah,  so  thinks  some  one  else.  Did  your  honour  ever  see 
young  Dr.  Daresby  ? 

Col.  No,  what  of  him? 

Weasel.  O,  nothing.  Sir.  But  they  walks  alone  together,  and 
sings  duets  together,  and  he  gave  her  the  little  poodle,  and  they  says, 
your  honour,  d  'ye  see  .  .  . 

Col.  Yes,  yes,  I  understand. 

Weasel.  She  always  feeds  that  fat  little  dog  herself,  your  honour. 
She  gives  it  slices  of  bread  and  strawberry  jam.     But  she 's  a  good 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  49 

young  Lady,  Sir.  Often  I  sees  her  going  to  the  cottages  with  her 
little  pink  bag  filled  with  the  good  things  which  Mrs.  Judith  makes. 
(I  knows  that  from  Mrs.  Marjory  who  has  to  wash  out  the  grease- 
spots  every  day  for  Miss  Sophy.)  And  there  she  goes  mincing  along 
with  her  long  veil  hanging  behind,  and  her  little  poodle  running  on 
before  her.  But  may  I  make  bold  to  ask  how  Master  Stumply  is } 
He  was  a  very  little  boy  when  .  .  . 

Col.  Not  a  word  of  him.  Weasel,  not  a  word  of  him  !  He 's  a 
wayward  .  .  .  don't  speak  of  him  !  folly  and  indiscretion  have  been 
his  bane. 

Weasel.  \_Shaking  his  head.']  There's  some  others  I  know  seem 
running  the  same  road. 

Col.  How?    Who? 

Weasel.  O,  it  is  not  for  me  to  say,  your  honour. 

Col.  Speak  ;  explain  yourself. 

Weasel.  I  dare  say  'twas  all  a  frolic,  your  honour,  but  there  were 
odd  doings  here  yesterday. 

Col.  Tell  me,  tell  me. 

Weasel.  {^Mysteriously.']  Perhaps  as  an  old  friend  of  the  Family 
your  honour  ought  to  know  all,  and  such  a  rum  affair  .  .  . 

Col.  Go  on,  go  on. 

Weasel.  Well  then,  your  honour,  yesterday  was  a  cold  evening,  d'ye 
see,  and  as  I  was  stirring  the  kitchen  fire  there  comes  a  knock,  and  I 
goes  to  the  door,  your  honour. 

Col.  Well. 

Weasel.  There  stands  a  tall,  genteel-like  lad  with  a  ragged  coat. 
And  he  would  give  me  no  name,  but  he  said  he  was  a  Wanderer,  and 
asked  for  a  night's  lodging.  So  Mrs.  Judith,  who  never  can  refuse 
any  one,  ordered  the  spare  bed  to  be  got  ready  for  him. 

Col.  So  I  turned  him  out,  hey.  Weasel  ?  There 's  the  secret  of  the 
pigs  ;  but  why  this  mystery? 

Weasel.  Mystery,  Sir,  ay,  that 's  the  word  ;  but  if  your  honour  was 
to  hear  what  followed  ! 

Col.  What  ?  where  did  they  put  him  ? 

Weasel.  {Lowering  his  voice.]  When  it  was  night,  your  honour, 
what  sees  I  through  the  chink  of  the  kitchen  door  in  the  passage  but 
the  three  young  Ladies  lugging  along  a  great  bundle,  and  stopping 
and  panting  and  puffing  ?  So  says  I,  I  '11  see  to  the  bottom  of  this, 
so  I  pops  out  suddenly  and  says,  '  Can  I  help  you,  Misses  ?'  quite  civil 
like.  But  O  Sir,  how  Miss  Sophy  trembled  and  turned  as  white  as 
a  lily,  and  Miss  Ratty  stamped  and  sent  me  to  the  village— at  that 

D 


50  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

hour,  your  honour,  company  in  the  house — the  ground  covered  with 
frost — I  subject  to  the  rheumatics — and  what  for,  d'ye  think?  to  get 
her  twopenceworth  of  shoe-ribbon,  your  honour  ;  and  when  I  brought 
it,  would  you  believe  it  ? — she  roared  out  that  it  was  too  narrow  and 
sent  me  back  again. 

Col.  Most  strange  !  most  unaccountable !  Have  you  any  guess 
what  was  in  the  bundle  ? 

Weasel.  I  winked  at  it,  your  honour.  There  was  a  mattress  and 
blankets,  I  'm  sure. 

Col.  For  the  Stranger,  I  suppose.  But  this  mystery !  I  cannot 
understand  it.     Where  could  they  be  going  ? 

Weasel.  To  the  churchyard,  I  thinks. 

Col.  The  churchyard  ! 

Weasel.  Why,  your  honour,  they  certainly  did  not  go  into  the 
kitchen,  and  the  back-door  leads  straight  across  the  yard  to  the 
Church,  and  the  vault  would  be  no  bad  hiding-place,  your  honour. 
Miss  Ratty  has  hid  there  herself,  I  knows,  when  the  dentist  was  here. 

Col.  Have  you  no  other  clue  ?    What  an  extraordinary  affair  ! 

Weasel.  Why,  Sir — your  honour,  last  night  Mrs.  Marjory  over- 
heard Miss  Ratty  whispering  Miss  Sophy,  and  she  said,  Sir  .  .  . 

Col.  What  ?  speak  out ! 

Weasel.  'As  long  as  the  Colonel  remains  here  the  Prince  must 
keep  concealed.' 

Col.  {Springing  up,']  The  Prince  !  ha,  ha  !  I  smell  a  rat !  the 
Pretender  !  the  Pretender  !  if  there  was  ever  such  luck,  such  fortune  ! 
Hang  me  if  I  could  not — but  there 's  not  an  instant  to  be  lost.  Fly, 
Weasel,  to  the  village.  Bid  Corporal  Catchup  and  a  dozen  stout 
fellows  be  with  me  directly.  Fly,  I  say,  and  if  it  be  all  as  I  hope,  I  '11 
cram  you  with  gold  till  you  choke.  Begone  !  Fly  !  {Exit  Weasel.] 
Thirty  thousand  pounds  and  a  baronetship  !  Sir  Stephen  Stumply ! 
Ah,  if  that  wayward  boy — the  Pretender  !  the  Pretender  !  he 's  in 
a  net,  in  a  net,  and  I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  let  him  out  of  it.    {Exit.'] 

SCENE   II. 

the  drawing-room. 

Enter  H  OR  ATI  A. 

HoRATlA.  What  a  sleepless  night  I  have  passed,  what  anxiety, 

what  excitement !  and  yet  how  unlike  is  he  to  what  I  had  imagined  ! 

so  timid,  so  petulant !  and  that  perpetual  punning  !     It  matters  not, 

however, — his  title  to  our  services  remains  the  same  !    A  strange  mis- 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  51 

giving  is  on  my  soul ;  is  it  the  shadow  of  approaching  danger,  or 
only  the  fear  of  it  ?  The  Colonel  gave  me  a  strange  meaning  look  as 
he  passed  me  this  morning,  and  said,  '  You  are  early  up,  Miss  Ratty  ; 
I  fear  that  your  rest  was  broken  last  night.'  Can  he  suspect  any- 
thing ?  That  sneaking  wretch.  Weasel !  Hark,  I  hear  the  Colonel's 
step  and  a  strange  voice.  I  '11  conceal  myself  behind  this  screen. 
Perhaps  .  .  . 

Enter  Colonel  Stumply  and  Corporal  Catchup. 

Col.  Plant  two  stout  fellows  at  the  front  door,  and  half  a  dozen  in 
the  garden.  Place  them  so  that  there  shall  be  no  possibility  of  escape 
either  from  the  house  or  the  churchyard  adjoining. 

Cor.  I  will,  Sir. 

HORATIA.  \Aside^  Horror  and  despair  ! 

Col.  Yourself  and  four  of  your  best  men  go  and  search  the  open 
vault  at  the  right-hand  corner  of  the  churchyard,  and  on  your  lives 
let  not  your  prisoner  escape.  Go,  plant  your  Sentinels,  and  then  to 
your  business.  {Exit  Corporal  Catchup.]  I  will  go  and  super- 
intend myself     \Exit^ 

HORATIA.  Day  of  horror  and  misery  !  All  is  lost.  All  is  dis- 
covered. If  I  but  knew  of  one  who  could  divert  the  attention  of 
these  wretches  till  the  Prince  escaped  !     If  I  .  .  . 

Enter  Dares  by. 
Daresby  !     He's  a  Whig  !  but  I  '11  make  him  my  tool. 

Daresby.  Good  morning,  I  came  thus  early  .  .  . 

HORATIA.  \Speaki7ig  very  fast  ^^  You  are  so  welcome — you  came 
just  a  moment  ,  .  . 

Daresby.  My  Sophy  !  nothing  is  the  matter  with  her  ? 

HoRATiA.  O  no.  It's  a  poor  soldier — got  the  cholera — lying  in 
the  vault  .  .  . 

Daresby.  In  a  vault ! 

HoRATiA.  Run,  run,  dearest  Daresby,  or  you  will  be  too  late. 

Daresby.  What  do  you  mean  ?    Explain  yourself. 

HORATIA.  The  cholera,  I  say — in  the  vault — O  !  you  put  me  in  a 
fever.     For  my  sake,  for  Sophy's — O  run,  fly  ! 

Daresby.  Whatever  can  you  .  .  . 

HORATIA.  Go,  or  I  shall  run  wild  !     You  know  the  way,  go  ! 

Daresby.  If  I  can  be  of  any  use  to  the  poor  sufferer.     [Exit^ 

HORATIA.  O,  what  a  relief!  he's  gone  !  I  should  never  survive 
another  day  of  such  excitement.  If  they  once  suppose  that  their 
object  is  gained  and  the  Prince  caught,  the  sentinels  will  be  removed 


52  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

from  the  garden,  and  he  can  escape  through  the  window.  If  the 
deception  can  be  carried  on  for  one  half-hour  he  may  be  saved.  I 
must  go  and  put  my  sisters  on  their  guard,  and  prepare  the  Prince  for 
flight.  If  Aunt  Judith  or  Weasel  see  and  recognise  Daresby  all  is 
lost.  I  wish  I  could  lock  them  both  up.  What  a  labyrinth  I  am 
in !  The  greatest  comfort  is  that  the  Colonel  is  a  blockhead,  and 
would  not  know  a  prince  from  a  pancake  !     \Exit^ 

SCENE   III. 

THE  STORE-ROOM. 

Charles.  Something  better  than  a  vault  this,  methinks.  I  could 
not  have  found  a  hiding-place  more  to  my  mind.  Excellent  cherry- 
brandy  she  makes,  this  Mrs.  Judith.  I  have  entered  half  a  dozen 
professions  since  I  entered  this  room  ;  it  will  be  hard  if  I  do  not  make 
my  fortune  out  of  one  of  them.  I  am  an  Historian,  for  I  have  been 
discussing  old  dates  ;  a  Merchant,  for  I  add  plum  to  plum  ;  a  Lawyer, 
for  I  have  opened  many  a  case  ;  a  Lord  Mayor,  for  the  mace  is  before 
me  ;  and  a  Navigator,  for  I  am  led  to  seize  and  gulf !  What  if  I  were 
to  stay  here  altogether,  or  set  up  a  new  company  with  my  fair 
hostesses  ?  Miss  Ratty  is  cut  out  for  a  tragedy  Queen.  Such  pas- 
sion !  such  emphasis  !  \^Mimzcking.']  '  That  my  keen  knife  see  not 
the  wound  it  makes ' — but  the  puzzle  is  that  they  are  all  ladies  ;  not 
one  to  take  a  gentleman's  part.  It  is  a  shame  in  me  to  say  so,  for 
I  am  sure  that  they  have  taken  mine.  My  only  hope  would  be  in 
Weasel.  That  fellow  has  such  a  desperate  squint,  that  I  am  sure 
he  would  make  a  capital  Lear  ! 

E7tter  H0Rx\TlA. 

HORATIA.  Fly  !  fly  !  while  yet  there  is  a  moment's  respite. 

Chari.es.  Fly  !  and  wherefore  ? 

HORATIA.  Rouse  all  the  ancient  courage  of  your  race  .  .  . 

Charles.  There  can  be  no  courage  in  a  race,  for  a  race  is  running 
away. 

HORATIA.  Let  the  spirit  of  your  Ancestors  glow  in  your  bosom, 
for  the  hour  of  danger  is  come. 

Charles.  '  I  dare  do  all  that  may  become  a  man '  .  .  . 

HORATIA.  Does  this  trifling  become  a  man  and  a  hero  ? 

Charles.  I  know  of  but  one  thing,  fair  Ratty,  that  can  become  a 
man  and  a  hero. 

Horatia.  What  is  that  ? 

Charles.  A  boy,  to  be  sure  ! 

Horatia.  Enough,  enough  of  this  perpetual  play  of  words.    We 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  53 

must  think,  we  must  act.  Another  is  now  taking  your  place  at  the 
vault  .  .  . 

Charles.  My  place  !  how  excessively  obliging  ! 

HORATIA.  Every  moment  is  invaluable.  Put  on  this  dress  of  my 
Aunt's  which  I  have  brought  for  you,  and  fly,  fly,  while  the  deception 
lasts  ! 

Charles.  The  brandy  must  have  got  into  my  head. 

HORATIA.  Put  it  on,  I  entreat  you,  if  not  for  your  own  or  your 
Country's  sake,  yet  for  your  noble  Father's. 

Charles.  My  Father's  !  Either  you  or  I  .  .  .  Why,  what 's  the 
matter  with  him  ?     Is  he  in  the  farce  too  } 

Horatia.  \Aside?^  He  is  the  worse  for  liquor !  O  horrible  !  and 
at  such  a  moment !  \Aloud?[  The  soldiers  are  here — sent  to  seize 
you — to  drag  you  to  a  dungeon,  perhaps  an  ignominious  death. 

Charles.  {^Alarmed?^  ^nd  why?  what  have  I  done? 

Horatia.  I  heard  the  orders  given.  One  hour's  delay  will  lead 
you  to  the  scaffold. 

Charles.  The  scaffold ! 

Horatia.  The  block. 

Charles.  The  block  !  why,  what  is  my  crime  ?  Why  does  not  my 
Father  come  to  my  assistance  ? 

Horatia.  Your  Father  cannot — he  is  exiled  from  his  native  land. 
Were  he  to  appear,  he  must  perish  too. 

Charles.  Have  you  hid  him  ?  have  you  hid  him  ? 

Horatia.  [Aside.]  Horridly  drunk  !  [Aloud.]  Put  on  this  dress 
and  fly.     It  is  your  only  chance  of  life. 

Charles.  You  have  put  me  into  a  shiver.  I  cannot  half  believe, 
nor  a  quarter  comprehend  you. 

Horatia,  Believe  then  these  tears,  this  agony  of  apprehension  in 
which  you  see  me.  This  moment  the  soldiers  may  be  mounting 
the  staircase — cutting  off"  all  hope  .  .  . 

Charles.  Give  me  the  slip  then,  and  I  will  give  them  the  slip  ! 
quick,  quick,  and  the  cloak  and  hood. 

Horatia.  Here,  here  !  O  despatch  !  while  you  remain  here  I 
tread  on  hot  iron. 

Charles.  I  am  to  personate  your  Aunt. 

Horatia.  Yes,  yes,  any  one,  but  make  haste. 

Charles.  So,  I  'm  equipped.     Farewell,  Lady  ! 

Horatia.  Pull  the  hood  over  your  face.  O  farewell !  [Exz/ 
Charles.] 

Horatia.  One  hour  more  of  excitement,  and  then  .  .  .    [Exit.] 


54  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

SCENE  IV. 

THE  CHURCHYARD. 

Enter  Corporal  Catchup  and  Soldiers. 

Corp.  Silence  !  Silence  !  halt  !  advance  bending  down  and  with 
your  bayonets  presented.  Comrades,  this  is  a  glorious  day,  and 
if  we  catch  the  Pretender  we  shall  have  little  cause  to  grieve 
that  we  arrived  a  day  too  late  for  the  Battle  of  Culloden.  What 
were  the  deeds  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  to  ours?  He  but 
wounded  the  fox,  we  catch  him  by  the  nose.  We  shall  be  made 
Aldermen,  every  man  of  us.  Take  ground  behind  those  bushes  ; 
keep  silence.  I  hear  a  voice  in  the  vault.  On  your  lives  be  silent 
— be  steady  ! 

Daresby.  \Tn  the  vault.]  I  can  find  no  one,  yet  here  is  a  bed 
prepared.  What  a  strange  place  to  make  an  hospital  of !  [^Emerg- 
ing from  the  vault. 1  Perhaps  the  poor  fellow  has  got  frightened  and 
delirious  .  .  . 

Corp.  Stand ! 

Daresby.  Ah,  here  is  my  Patient.  So  you  have  got  the 
cholera,  my  Friend  ! 

Corp.  No,  unless  that 's  one  of  your  titles.    Surrender  or  die  ! 

Daresby.  He  must  be  in  a  high  fever  !  Be  calm,  my  good  man,  I 
will  render  you  all  the  assistance  in  my  power. 

Corp.  You  will,  will  you  ? 

Daresby.  Come  with  me  to  the  house,  come.  This  is  no  place 
for  a  person  in  your  state. 

Corp.  Well,  if  this  arn't  droll  I  he 's  trying  to  humbug  me. 

Daresby.  You  may  catch  your  death  of  cold. 

Corp.  I'll  catch  nothing  but  you.  Come  along,  Sir,  offer  no 
resistance,  for  it 's  of  no  use.  I  'm  sorry  for  you,  but  I  've  a  duty  to 
perform,  and  a  reward  to  get. 

Daresby.  What  do  you  mean,  fellow?    Stand  off! 

Corp.  Ho  !  guards  there  !    [Daresby  is  surrounded.] 

Daresby.  This  is  some  error.  By  whose  warrant  do  you  dare  to 
apprehend  one  of  his  Majesty's  subjects  ? 

Corp.  No  use  in  all  that  deception.  Sir  :  all 's  discovered  now. 

Daresby.  What 's  discovered,  fellow,  what  deception  ?  Who  dares 
use  such  terms  to  me  !  You  shall  answer  for  your  conduct,  Sir  ;  this 
shall  not  be  passed  over,  I  '11  warrant  you. 

Corp.  I  hope  not.  Sir. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  55 

Daresby.  This  is  not  to  be  endured.  By  whose  orders  do  you 
presume  to  place  me  under  arrest  ? 

Corp.  We  are  under  the  orders  of  Colonel  Stumply. 

Daresby.  I  must  see  the  Colonel  instantly.  He  shall  give  me 
an  explanation  of  this  extraordinary  affair.  Take  me  to  him 
directly. 

Corp.  All  in  good  time,  Sir.    Stickum,  have  you  handcuffs  with  you  ? 

Daresby.  Handcuffs,  villain  ! 

Stickum.  No. 

Corp.  Keep  your  hand  on  his  collar,  then.  Soldiers,  present 
bayonets.     Let  him  attempt  to  escape,  and  he  dies. 

Daresby.  With  what  effrontery  .  .  . 

Corp.  Move  on,  Sir,  if  you  please.  \To  the  Soldiers^  Keep 
your  eye  on  him.     If  he  but  raise  his  hand  or  turn  his  head — fire  ! 

\Exeunt.'\ 


SCENE  V. 

THE  garden  gate. 

O'Shannon 

O'Shan.  a  could,  misty,  morning,  and  I  am  left  here  to  keep  watch 
without  a  drop  of  the  cratur  to  cheer  my  heart  or  keep  my  spirits 
from  sinking.  There 's  all  the  rest  of  them  gone  to  catch  the  Pre- 
tender and  get  the  prize-money,  and  it 's  nothing  that  I  'm  likely  to 
catch  here  but  a  cold.  I  wish  that  I  had  never  left  the  tallow 
business,  that  I  do,  for  all  this  murthering  work.  It  was  a  lucky 
chance  that  we  were  a  day  too  late  for  the  fair  at  Culloden  ;  it 's  no 
fancy  I  have  for  the  Highlanders'  dirks.  Awful  slashing  work  they 
made,  'tis  said.  Well-a-day  !  I  must  shoulder  my  gun  ;  if  the 
Corporal  found  me  standing  at  ease,  he  would  order  me  a  round 
dozen  :  there 's  no  fear  of  it 's  going  off  for  its  own  accord,  the  cratur, 
for  I  forgot  to  load  it  this  morning. 

Enter  Charles  in  disguise. 

Charles.  [Aside.]  And  there  is  a  Sentry  !  Horatia  was  right ! 
But  what  they  should  want  to  arrest  either  me  or  my  Father  for  is 
more  than  I  can  comprehend  !  This  is  really  nervous  work.  I  fear 
that  I  shall  find  it  as  difficult  to  pass  this  fellow  as  I  found  it  at 
school  to  parse  a  sentence  from  my  grammar-book.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  dress  with  which  Ratty  provided  me,  I  shall  need  all  the 


56  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

address  of  which  I  am  master  to  get  through  this  scrape  should  he 
address  me.  I  must  put  on  an  air  of  confidence.  Perhaps  he  may 
let  me  pass  without  question. 

O'Shan.  a  black  morning,  Ma'am. 

Charles.  {Attempting  to  slip  past.l  Did  you  ever  see  mourning 
any  other  colour  ? 

O'Shan.  Can't  pass  here,  Ma'am. 

Charles.  No  !  and  why .? 

O'Shan.  'Cause  I  am  posted  here  to  keep  a  good  watch. 

Charles.  \Attempti71g  to  pass  agai7t.'\  Easier  to  keep  a  good 
watch  than  to  get  one  ! 

O'Shan.  I  have  orders  to  let  no  one  pass. 

Charles.  O  but,  my  good  fellow,  I  have  very  important  business. 
You  must  let  me  go. 

O'Shan.  Keep  back.  Ma'am.  Now  I  thinks  on 't,  your  hood  looks 
rather  suspicious. 

Charles.  [Retreating  a  step.]  Does  it  ?  A  sort  of  robbin'  hood, 
I  suppose.     [Aside.]  I  wish  the  fellow  were  at  Jericho. 

O'Shan.  And  that  dress  was  never  made  for  you  ?  Let  me  see  a 
little  closer.     [Advancing.] 

Charles.  [Retreating.    Aside.]  Shall  I  run  for  my  life  ? 

O'Shan.  Stop,  stop,  my  good  Lady  !  Methinks  your  dress  is 
uncommon  short,  too,  it  hardly  reaches  to  the  clocks  of  your  stock- 
ings. 

Charles.  Mind  your  watch,  and  leave  my  clocks  alone.    [Aside.] 

0  dear!  O  dear  !  If  I  were  but  once  fairly  off!  [Attempts  to 
run.] 

O'Shan.  Stop,  or  I  '11  shoot  ye  !  I  '11  send  a  bullet  through  your 
head  if  ye  stir  an  inch  farther. 

Charles.  [Aside.]  I  'm  done  for  ! 

O'Shan.  [Aside.]  I  '11  make  sure.  [Suddenly  darts  towards 
Charles  and  pulls  back  his  hood.]     Hillo  !  hillo  !     I  've  caught  him  ! 

1  've  caught  him,  'tis  the  man  himself. 

Charles.  [Aside.]  One  struggle  for  life.  [Aloudl]  Beware,  fellow, 
I  have  arms.     [Aside.]  None  but  what  nature  gave  me. 

O'Shan.  [Retreating  a  step.  Aside.]  Murther  !  and  the  gun  is 
not  loaded  ! 

Charles.  [Aside.]  I  've  staggered  him  !  [Aloud.]  Lay  but  a 
finger  on  me  and  I  '11  lay  you  with  the  dust. 

O'Shan.  Keep  off,  or  I  '11  shoot  ye. 

Charles.  [Retreating.]  A  fig  for  your  gun  ! 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  57 

O'Shan.  \Aside.  Retreating^  I  wish  some  one  would  come. 
I  've  heard  he 's  a  raal  hero.     I  '11  call  for  help.     Holloa  !  there. 

Charles.  Hold  your  peace,  or  I  '11  cut  you  piece-meal. 

O'Shan.  I  '11  blow  your  brains  out,  I  will  !  [Aside.]  He  can't  guess 
that  it 's  not  loaded. 

Charles.  [Aside.]  If  he  should  fire  ! 

O'Shan.  [Aside.]  If  he  should  fight  !  My  poor  Mother  ;  och,  if 
she  could  see  me  now,  'twould  pit  her  into  high-strikes.  Is  no  one 
coming  to  help  me  ? 

Charles.  [Aside.]  If  I  could  but  touch  his  kinder  feelings  !  I 
have  been  accustomed  to  steal  hearts,  but  I  fear  that  I  should  find 
his  steeled  already.  I  must  make  one  more  effort  to  steal  past  him. 
But  the  sight  of  his  matchlock  makes  my  blood  run  cold. 

O'Shan.  Och!  he 's  coming  nearer.     O  for  pity's  sake  .  .  . 

Charles.  If  mercy  ever  touched  your  bosom  .  .  . 

Enter  Corporal  Catchup. 

O'Shan.  Catch  him  !  catch  him  !  'tis  he,  the  Pretender !  catch 
him.  Corporal !  collar  him  !  never  fear  ! 

Corp.  Who  ?  the  old  woman  ? 

O'Shan.  Catch  him,  I  say,  and  never  be  frightened  for  him,  man. 
I  found  him  out. 

Charles.  So— all  is  lost. 

Corp.  A  man  in  disguise  !  it  must  be  he.  Bind  him,  O'Shannon. 
This  is  a  prize  indeed. 

O'Shan.  Ah,  poor  gintleman,  your  troubles  will  soon  be  pit  an 
end  to.  Ah  !  ye  may  well  sigh,  for  no  man  laughs  on  his  way  to  the 
gallows. 

Charles.  The  gallows  !  is  it  possible  that  so  inhuman  a  murder 
can  be  contemplated  ? 

O'Shan.  O  ye  may  be  satisfied  of  it  !  There's  only  one  thing 
that 's  doubtful,  I  'm  thinking. 

Charles.  What 's  that  ? 

O'Shan.  Whether  they'll  stick  your  head  on  the  Lord  Mayor's 
mace  before  or  after  they  've  hung  you  ! 

Charles.  O  horrible,  horrible,  most  horrible  !  It  cannot,  O  it 
cannot  be  !  What  a  dreadful,  what  a  fearful  fate  !  O  that  the  first 
step  I  took  from  my  Father's  home  had  been  into  a  horse-pond  !  that 
I  had  died  e'er  I  left  it ! 

O'Shan.  Ay,  there's  the  pity  !  Had  ye  stayed  peaceably  at  home, 
this  would  never  have  happened  to  ye. 


58  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Charles.  The  gallows  !  can  it  be^ 

O'Shan.  Ah,  how  all  the  Ladies  will  pity  ye  !  such  a  likely  lad, 
and  so  young,  and  .  .  . 

Charles.  Silence  !  you  distract  me. 

O'Shan.  Poor  gintleman  !  when  it  comes  to  the  pinch,  when  the 
rope  .  .  . 

Corp.  No  more,  O'Shannon  !  You  have  secured  his  arms.  Bring 
him  speedily  along  with  you.     No  delay  ! 

Charles.  My  limbs  can  scarcely  support  me  !  O  day  of  agony, 
of  misery,  and  despair  !     \Exeunt^ 

SCENE  VI. 

the  parlour. 

Colonel  Stumply. 

Col.  \Rubbing  his  hands.]  Caught !  caught  !  This  is  indeed  a 
good  day's  work. 

Enter  Sophia,  Barbara,  and  Horatia. 

Col.  Ah  !  ha  !  my  pretty  Jacobites,  this  comes  of  your  plotting. 
The  Pretender  is  in  safe  hands  now.  Who  would  have  thought  you 
up  to  such  a  conspiracy  ? 

Horatia.  Alas,  our  unhappy  Prince  ! 

Sophia.  [Aside  to  Horatia.]  Poor  Daresby  !  It  makes  my  heart 
faint  to  think  of  him.     I  cannot  stay  to  look  on. 

Horatia.  You  must  stay  to  keep  him  silent.  'Tis  but  for  an  hour. 
I  am  ashamed  of  you.     Remember  that  you  have  a  part  to  perform. 

Sophy.  I  cannot  say  what  is  not  true. 

Horatia.  Say  nothing,  then. 

Enter  Daresby  guarded. 

Daresby.  \To  the  Col.]  Sir,  I  demand  an  explanation  of  this 
most  extraordinary  and  unjustifiable  treatment.  Sir,  I  am  a  gentle- 
man and  .  .  .  [Horatia  makes  earnest  signs  to  him  to  be  site7it.'\ 

Col.  You  shall  be  treated.  Sir,  with  all  the  respect  due  to  your 
station,  consistent  with  your  safe  custody. 

Daresby.  Of  what  am  I  charged?  Who  is  my  accuser?  what 
wretch  dares  ?  [Horatio  repeats  the  signs.]  What  is  the  meaning  of 
all  this  nonsense?  Do  you  wish  to  make  a  fool  of  me?  I'll  not 
endure  this  .  .  . 

Col.  Be  calm.  Sir,  and  submit  to  destiny. 

Daresby.  I'll  not  submit  to  such  treatment.     My  name  is  .  .  . 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  59 

[HORATIA  in  an  agony  throws  herself  at  his  feet^  exclaiining\  O 
noble  man  !  for  the  sake  of  all  you  love  .  .  . 

Daresby.  Horatia,  I  am  in  a  dream.  Sophy,  of  you  I  ask,  I 
entreat,  an  explanation.  Why  am  I  thus  confined?  Why  do  you 
stand  calmly  looking  on  my  disgrace  t 

Sophy.  Calmly  !  O  Da  .  .  .  [Aside.]  I  cannot  restrain  my  tears. 

Daresby.  Are  you  too  my  enemy? 

Sophy.  Your  enemy  !     O  ! 

Daresby.  [To  the  Colonel.]  Are  my  political  opinions  suspected  ? 
Am  I  supposed  to  be  a  Ja  .  .  . 

Horatia.  You  are  known — you  are  known  —  to  be  —  to  be  — 
to  be  .  .  .    [E7iter  Weasel.] 

Horatia.  [Springing  to  Sophia's  side?[  O  Sophy,  for  pity's 
sake  take  that  creature  off,  or  .  .  . 

Sophy.  Weasel,  Weasel  !    [Aside.]  What  can  I  say  ? 

Weasel.  What !     Dr.  Da  .  .  . 

Sophia.  Weasel,  Weasel,  will  you  go  directly  to  the  garden  and 
fetch  .  .  . 

Weasel.  What,  Miss  ? 

Sophia.  Fetch,  fetch — some  spinach. 

Weasel.  Spinach  don't  grow  in  November,  Miss,  as  Dr.  .  .  . 

Horatia.  Go  to  the  village  directly  for  .  .  . 

Weasel.  Can't  go  to  the  village  no  more.  Miss,  till  I  've  laid  the 
cloth  for  breakfast.     The  Doc  .  .  . 

Horatia.  We  must  have  wine.     Go  to  the  cellar. 

Weasel.  Haven't  got  the  keys,  Miss.  If  I  might  make  bold  to  ask 
why  .  .  . 

Horatia.  Begone  this  instant  ...  we  shall  want  poultry.  Wring 
every  chicken's  neck  in  the  yard,  or  I  '11  wring  yours  as  sure  as  I  stand 
here  !    [Exit  Weasel.] 

Col.  What  an  extraordinary  temper  ! 

Daresby.  Sophy,  Sophy,  if  you  are  still  the  ingenuous  being  I  ever 
believed  you  to  be,  tell  me  in  what  farce  I  am  thus  forced  to  act  a 
part  against  my  will.  Tell  me  the  secret  of  the  conspiracy  which 
seems  formed  against  me.     Are  you  an  accessory  ? 

Col.  Why,  the  Ladies  have  been  turning  every  stone  in  your 
defence !  They  never  let  out  the  secret !  As  far  as  they  were 
concerned  you  might  have  remained  in  your  vault  until  you  were  old 
enough  to  stay  there  altogether  ! 

Daresby.  Every  sentence  that  I  hear  bewilders  me  yet  more. 
Ratty  Rattleton,  Ratty  Rattleton,  you  are  at  the  bottom  of  the  plot. 


6o  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Enter  Mrs.  Judith. 

HORATIA.  [Aside.]  Aunt  Judy  !  this  is  distraction  ! 

Mrs.  Jud.  Young  Daresby,  my  .  .  . 

HORATIA.  Aunt,  Aunt  .  .  . 

Mrs.  Jud.  What's  the  matter? 

HoRATiA.  The  .  .  .  [aside]  at  last  I  seem  come  to  my  wits  end  ! 
[Ato?^d.]  The  .  .  . 

Daresby.  Mrs.  Judith  Rattleton,  you  are  my  friend,  you  will  bear 
witness  .  .  . 

HORATIA.  The  most  important  .  .  . 

Sophia.  O  dear  Aunt  .  .  . 

Barbara.  If  you  would  only  hold  your  tongue  ! 

Mrs.  Jud.  What  a  racket !  what  .  .  .  why  .  .  . 

Daresby.  Mrs.  Judith,  I  am  here  charged  with  .  .  . 

Mrs.  Jud.  You,  Daresby  !     Why,  Colonel,  this  is  .  .  . 

Col.  Not  the  Prince  !  Then  he  is  concealed  in  the  house  !  I  see 
all ;  follow  me,  Guards  .  .  .  [Sophy  throws  herself  at  his  feet ; 
Horatia  and  Barbara  rush  to  the  door.] 

HORATIA.  You  shall  pass  over  my  corpse  !  I  am  desperate  !  [The 
door  suddenly  opens.  Enter  Charles  guarded  by  O'Shannon  and 
the  Corporal.] 

All  the  Young  Ladies.    The  Prince  !  horrors  !  the  Prince  ! 

Daresby.  My  chum,  Charles  Stumply  ! 

Charles.  My  Father  ! 

Col.  Ah,  Scapegrace  !  dare  you  present  yourself  before  me  ? 
Under  what  false  and  shameful  pretences  have  you  entered  this 
house  ? 

O'Shan.    Charles  Stumply  !    hang  the  fellow,  he 's  only  a  man 
after  all. 
,   Daresby.  I  cannot  contain  my  surprise. 

Mrs.  Jud.  The  ungrateful  vagabond  !  he  has  stolen  my  best  gown 
and  hood. 

Horatia.  I  shall  sink  to  the  cellar. 

Sophia.  O  Daresby,  how  comical ! 

Col.  Speak,  you  scamp  !  What  has  induced  you  to  dress  your- 
self like — a — speak  !  nor  add  a  falsehood  to  your  other  faults  and 
follies. 

Charles.  My  dear  Father,  I  have  used  no  deception  except  that 
of  changing  my  name.  I  am  the  deceived,  not  the  deceiver.  No 
one  present  is  as  much  surprised  at  seeing  me,  as  I  myself  am  at 
finding  myself  thus.     These  fair  Ladies  kindly  and  willingly  took  me 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  6i 

in,  and  I  see  that,  quite  unwittingly,  I  have  taken  them  in  also  !  1 
own  that  I  merit  your  displeasure,  but  I  will  do  so  no  longer.  I  have 
received  a  lesson  which  I  will  not  soon  forget.  I  will  no  longer  run 
counter  to  your  wishes,  but  return  to  the  counter  for  which  you 
destined  me.  I  have  long  devoted  myself  to  a-muse,  but  now  I  will 
learn  to  obey.  I  own  that  I  too  fondly  sought  the  giddy  cheer  of  an 
applauding  audience.  Romance  and  her  knights  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  my  fancy,  but  I  have  found  the  nights  too  cold,  and  the  cheer 
too  indifferent.  I  return  with  humble  regret  to  my  loving  Sire,  and 
if  he  will  receive  me  a-gain,  he  may  perhaps  be  able  to  make  a-gain 
of  me  yet ! 

Col.  Ah,  you  Rogue,  you  little  merit  that  I  should  look  at  you 
again.  The  Pretender,  indeed  !  so  farewell  to  my  dreams  of  fortune! 
I  always  thought  it  too  good  to  be  true.  Ladies,  I  have  to  beg  a 
thousand  pardons  for  my  rudeness  in  breaking  in  .  .  . 

Charles.  I  must  bear  that  blame,  my  Father.  Had  I  not  broken 
out,  you  would  not  have  broken  in. 

HORATLA..  Deceiving  Wretch  !  could  I  for  a  moment  .  .  . 

Charles.  No  anger,  fair  Miss  Ratty,  we  had  enough  of  this  in- 
dignation at  the  brink  of  the  vault,  when  you  were  near  falling  out 
with  me  because  I  would  not  fall  in  with  your  ideas,  and  fall  into 
the  vault. 

Daresby.  Ah,  Sophy,  how  you  treated  me  ! 

Sophia.  I  thought  it  my  duty,  dearest. 

Daresby.  I  can  pardon  you  anything ;  but  that  deceiving  Ratty, 
whose  word  I  can  never  again  believe  .  .  . 

Charles.  No  more  of  that,  Daresby.  The  farce  is  ended,  the 
mists  of  mistake  are  clearing  up,  the  reign  of  Folly  must  fall,  let  not 
Anger  survive  its  cause  ! 

Now  that  we  have  ended  all  this  War  of  Words, 
And  fall  to  drawing  corks  instead  of  swords, 
Now  the  Pretender  may  his  Captors  mock. 
And  view  with  glee  a  match  without  the  lock. 
Let  each  resentful  thought  and  feeling  cease. 
And  General  Harmony  conclude  the  Piece  ! 


CHAPTER   V 

A.D.  1847-1849 

•HOME   LIFE 

In  1847  a  new  interest  entered  the  life  of  Charlotte  Tucker. 
The  three  little  ones  of  her  brother  Robert  and  his  wife, — 
Louis,  Charley,  and  Letitia, — came  to  live  at  No.  3,  and 
were  made  her  especial  charge.  All  of  them,  but 
particularly  the  pretty  little  dark-eyed  Letitia,  then  only 
two  years  old,  were  thenceforward  as  her  own  ;  first  in  her 
thoughts,  and  among  the  first  in  her  love.  She  taught  them, 
trained  them,  devoted  herself  to  them ;  and  their  names 
will  often  be  found  in  her  letters.  The  death  of  Letitia, 
nearly  twenty  years  later,  was  one  of  the  heaviest  sorrows 
she  ever  had  to  endure.  One  is  disposed  to  think  that  the 
care  and  responsibility  of  three  little  ones,  undertaken 
in  the  midst  of  a  full  and  busy  family  life,  and  in  addition 
to  all  the  duties  of  that  life,  could  have  been  no  sinecure, 
and  must  have  been  fraught  with  many  a  difficulty. 

The  Tuckers  were  much  in  society,  as  may  indeed 
have  been  already  gathered.  Mr.  Tucker  was  a  man 
greatly  sought  after,  alike  on  account  of  his  position  and 
influence,  and  because  of  his  personal  attractiveness.  Open 
house  was  kept ;  and  the  large  circle  of  friends  and 
acquaintances  never  failed  to  find  a  welcome.  So  many 
indeed  would  drop  in  and  out,  that  three  lunches  in 
succession  were  occasionally  known  to  take  place  at  No.  3 ; 
and  so  frequent  were  the  '  parties '  to  which  the  family  was 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  63 

invited,  that  sometimes  they  would  appear  at  three 
different  houses  in  the  course  of  one  evening.  '  Party  '  in 
those  days  was  a  wide  term,  embracing  divers  kinds  of  enter- 
tainment, from  a  simple  musical  gathering  to  a  large  ball. 

Dinner-parties  also  were  numerous.  In  reference  to 
these,  Charlotte  Tucker  wrote  rather  drolly  to  her  sister 
late  in  life,  speaking  of — *  those  formal  affairs,  which  you 
and  I  remember  in  our  earlier  days.  We  must  ask  So-and- 
so  ;  and  how  shall  we  find  gentlemen  to  counterbalance 
Mrs.  and  Miss  out  of  one  house?  Slow  concerns  those 
great  dinner-parties  were ;  a  kind  of  social  duty,  which 
cost  much  trouble  and  expense,  and  gave  not  much 
pleasure.  A  kind  of  very  stiff  jelly,  with  not  many  straw- 
berries in  it.' 

An  amusing  story  is  told  about  these  large  dinners.  In 
those  days  the  custom  of  '  drinking  healths '  had  gained 
sway  to  an  absurd  and  objectionable  extent ;  gentlemen 
being  expected  to  respond  to  every  toast,  and  not  only  to 
sip  their  wine,  but  very  often  to  empty  their  glasses,  under 
pain  of  giving  serious  offence.  Mr.  Tucker  always  had  by  his 
side  a  decanter  of  toast  and  water,  from  which  his  glass  was 
filled  for  the  various  toasts  ;  and  probably  those  not  in  the 
secret  counted  him  a  marvellously  hard-headed  man.  One 
day  a  guest  requested  leave  to  taste  this  especial  wine, 
which  was  kept  for  the  host  alone,  supposing  it  to  be  of 
some  very  rare  and  choice  vintage.  His  request  was 
immediately  complied  with  ;  and  the  face  of  the  bon-vivant 
may  be  imagined  when  he  discovered  himself  to  be 
drinking  toast-and-water. 

No  doubt  these  dinners  were  a  '  social  duty ' ;  and  no 
doubt  some  of  them  may  have  been  extremely  dull.  Yet 
it  must  not  be  supposed  that  Charlotte  did  not  thoroughly 
enjoy  London  society,  and  did  not  fully  appreciate  in- 
tercourse with  polished  and  intellectual  minds.  That 
which  in  her  old  age  would  have  been  a  mere  weariness  to 


64  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

her,  was  no  weariness  in  youth  and  early  middle  age. 
One  of  her  brothers  remarks :  '  She  was  very  sociable, 
lively,  and  threw  her  whole  heart  into  the  kindly  enter- 
taining of  guests  of  all  ages.'  Such  powers  of  entertaining 
as  she  possessed  could  not  but  have  gone  with  enjoyment 
'in  the  use  of  those  powers. 

Moreover,  the  study  of  different  characters,  the  drawing 
out  of  other  people's  thoughts,  the  gaining  of  new  ideas 
for  herself,  must  have  had  some  fascination.  And,  despite 
all  her  kindness,  all  her  readiness  to  see  the  best  in  every- 
body, she  could  not,  with  her  keen  sense  of  humour,  have 
failed  to  be  a  good  deal  amused  with  the  various  foibles 
and  absurdities  which  certain  people  are  wont  to  display, 
even  in  the  best  society,  and  when  upon  their  most  circum- 
spect behaviour. 

Ever  merry,  and  ever  making  others  merry,  she  could,  as 
one  friend  says,  '  keep  a  whole  tableful  laughing  and 
talking,'  without  difficulty.  In  fact,  whatever  the  dinner- 
parties may  have  seemed  to  herself,  her  own  presence,  her 
bright  smile  and  sparkling  conversation,  effectually  pre- 
vented sensations  of  dulness  on  the  part  of  others  who 
were  there. 

Whether  Charlotte  ever  had  what,  in  the  language  of 
fifty  or  sixty  years  ago,  was  delicately  termed  a  'preference' 
for  anybody,  cannot  be  known.  Her  hand  was  at  least  once 
sought  in  marriage,  while  she  was  still  a  girl ;  and  some 
signs  seem  to  have  been  visible  that  she  was  disposed  to 
'  like '  the  gentleman  in  question.  Her  parents,  however, 
disapproved  of  the  match,  and  it  came  to  nothing.  If  at 
any  time  she  really  were  in  love,  it  is  pretty  certain  that 
she  never  would  have  revealed  the  fact  to  any  mortal 
being  until  sure  that  her  '  preference '  was  returned.  The 
reticence  which  was  so  marked  a  feature  in  her  otherwise 
frank  and  open  nature  would  undoubtedly  have  had  sway 
in  this  direction. 


k 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  65 

Speaking  to  a  friend,  long  after  in  old  age,  she  said  that 
in  her  young  days  'at  home,'  when  a  certain  nameless 
gentleman  was  supposed  to  be  paying  his  addresses  to 
Fanny,  the  other  sisters  were  '  very  indignant '  at  the  idea 
of  any  man  wishing  to  break  into  their  sisterly  circle. 
This  probably  preceded  her  own  little  affair,  since  Fanny 
was  four  years  her  senior.  The  pretty  notion  of  home-life 
and  of  the  unbroken  sisterly  circle  had  in  time  to  yield 
before  stern  facts,  as  first  one  sister  and  then  a  second 
proved  faithless  to  nursery  traditions. 

Wide  as  was  the  circle  of  family  acquaintances,  the  girls 
possessed  few  intimate  outside  friends.  Mr.  Tucker  rather 
discouraged  such  intimacies,  considering  that  his  five 
daughters  ought  to  be  content  with  the  close  companion- 
ship of  one  another.  Charlotte  had  above  all  her  Laura, 
whom  she  devotedly  loved  ;  and  so  satisfying  was  this 
friendship  that  she  probably  cared  little  for  others  by 
comparison. 

Mrs.  Tucker,  in  her  quiet  way,  was  no  less  a  power  in 
the  house  than  was  her  husband.  Though  less  brilliantly 
gifted,  she  was  very  observant,  very  quaint,  very  wise,  a 
most  affectionate  Mother,  intensely  loved  and  revered  by 
all  her  children.  She  had  her  own  peculiar  mode  of 
looking  upon  things.  For  instance, — having  noticed  that 
girls  in  an  evening  party,  glancing  at  a  mirror,  were  apt 
to  be  disquieted  to  find  their  dresses  disorganised,  she 
resolved  to  have  no  mirrors  at  all  in  her  rooms,  hoping 
thereby  to  secure  greater  peace  of  mind  among  her  guests. 
It  does  not  seem  to  have  occurred  to  her,  that  a  vague 
uneasiness  about  the  state  of  their  attire  might  possibly 
trouble  them  quite  as  much  as  even  an  uncomfortable 
certainty. 

Another  short  story  of  Mrs.  Tucker,  showing  her  quiet, 
incisive  force  of  character,  may  well  come  in  here.  She 
had  a  very  strong  objection  to  unkind  discussion  of 
E 


66  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

people  behind  their  backs.  On  one  occasion,  when  in  the 
drawing-room  of  a  certain  lady,  other  callers  beside  herself 
were  present,  and  one  of  the  latter  rose  to  leave.  No 
sooner  was  the  unfortunate  lady  gone,  than  the  hostess 
began  to  speak  of  her  in  disparaging  terms.  Mrs.  Tucker 
made  no  immediate  observation  ;  but  presently,  turning  to 
the  hostess,  she  said  mildly,  '  I  ought  to  be  going, — but  I 
really  am  afraid  to  do  so.'  Much  surprised,  the  other 
asked  why.  *  Because,'  Mrs.  Tucker  replied,  '  I  am 
afraid  that  when  I  have  left  the  room  you  will  begin  to 
speak  of  me  as  you  did  just  now  of  Mrs.  — ^ — .'  The 
courteously  uttered  reproof — a  pretty  sharp  one,  however 
gently  bestowed — was  accepted  in  an  equally  courteous 
spirit ;  and  the  hostess  earnestly  assured  her  that  nothing 
of  the  kind  should  take  place. 

There  is  no  need  to  imagine,  because  Charlotte  was  gay 
and  bright  in  society,  that  she  never  knew  the  meaning  of 
depression.  Shadows  of  loss  and  sorrow  had  not  yet 
begun  to  fall  across  her  pathway  ;  yet  even  in  those  happy 
days  she  must  have  grasped  the  meaning  of  '  down '  as 
well  as  *  up.'  Rather  curiously,  she  spoke  of  herself  in  old 
age  as  having  been  when  young  'subject  to  very  low 
spirits ' ;  or  more  strictly,  she  said  that  she  would  have 
been  so  subject,  but  for  the  counteracting  influences  of 
*  religion '  and  '  work,'  the  latter  arising  from  the  former. 
High  spirits  seldom  exist  without  some  tendency  to 
occasional  re-action.  But  certainly  the  sense  of  depression, 
whenever  it  may  have  assailed  her,  was  not  allowed  to  be  a 
weight  upon  others  in  her  everyday  life. 

It  was  most  likely  somewhere  between  1847  and  1849 
that  she  began  to  feel  uneasy  about  going  to  certain 
kinds  of  amusement.  Fanny  was  the  first  to  dwell  upon 
this  subject,  and  to  be  unhappy  as  to  exactly  what  she 
ought  or  ought  not  to  do.  Long  years  after  Charlotte 
Tucker  wrote ;     Sweet   Fanny  suffered  much  from  her 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  67 

sensitiveness  of  conscience  ' ;  and  the  words  may  perhaps 
in  part  have  borne  reference  to  such  debatings  as  these. 

Fanny's  gentle,  yielding  nature  went  no  farther  than 
being  troubled.  She  did  not  speak  out.  But  when  the 
same  questionings  spread  to  the  younger  sister,  matters 
were  different.  Charlotte  was  not  one  who  would  hesitate 
as  to  action,  in  the  face  of  her  own  conscience.  To  some 
extent  here  lies  the  gist  of  the  matter.  While  she  could  go 
with  a  clear  and  perfectly  easy  conscience,  able  to  enjoy 
herself,  and  untroubled  by  doubts,  she  probably  did  so  with- 
out harm  to  herself,  so  long  as  her  life  was  not  'given 
to  pleasures,'  that  is  to  say,  so  long  as  she  did  not  unduly 
love  these  things,  or  allow  them  to  occupy  a  wrong  place  in 
her  life.  The  moment  conscience  became  uneasy,  however, 
there  was  nothing  for  her  but  to  stand  still  and  carefully 
to  consider  her  next  step.  For  '  he  that  doubteth  is  con- 
demned if  he  eat,'  even  though  the  eating  may  not  be  actu- 
ally and  intrinsically  evil.  Whether  or  no  the  things  were 
in  their  essence  wrong, — and  to  decide  this,  each  thing 
would  have  to  be  regarded  apart,  entirely  on  its  own  merits, 
— they  became  wrong  for  Charlotte,  so  soon  as  she  could  no 
longer  accept  them  with  a  free  and  happy  mind.  They 
became  wrong,  at  least,  unless  she  felt  her  doubts  to  be 
overridden  by  the  duty  of  obedience. 

Fanny  had  doubted  and  hesitated ;  Charlotte  doubted, 
and  did  not  hesitate.  She  went  straight  to  her  parents, 
told  them  frankly  what  she  felt,  and  asked  whether  she 
might  give  up  going  to  such  places  of  entertainment  as 
caused  her  uneasiness. 

Wisely  and  generously  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tucker  yielded. 
If  it  had  become  a  matter  of  conscience  with  her,  she 
might  remain  at  home.  Although  they  did  not  view  the 
question  in  precisely  the  same  light,  they  would  not  make 
their  conscience  the  rule  for  her  actions,  but  would  leave 
her  free  to  be  guided  by  the  dictates  of  her  own. 


68  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Had  they  not  so  responded,  had  they  insisted  on 
having  her  with  them  still  wherever  they  went,  Charlotte 
would  have  given  way.  Hers  was  a  high  ideal  of  filial 
submission  ;  and  though  she  had  reached  an  age  when  she 
had  a  right  to  an  independent  opinion,  yet  obedience  to 
them  ranked  in  her  mind  before  the  necessity  to  decide 
for  herself,  in  a  question  where  opinions  might  so  greatly 
differ.  If  they  desired  her  to  go,  she  would  go.  If  the 
matter  were  left  to  herself,  she  would  be  on  the  safe  side 
in  all  cases  which  seemed  to  her  dubious,  and  would  remain 
at  home. 

There  is  little  or  nothing  in  her  letters  of  that  date 
bearing  on  this  subject  ;  but  the  above  seems  to  have  been 
her  manner  of  regarding  it.  While  feeling  the  need  to 
draw  for  herself  some  line  of  demarcation  between  things 
expedient  and  things  inexpedient,  she  does  not  appear  to 
have  fallen  into  the  error,  so  common  amongst  really  earnest 
and  excellent  people,  of  counting  that  the  line  which  she 
rightly  drew  for  herself  must  of  necessity  be  the  only  right 
line  for  everybody  else.  Such  a  view  leads  to  many  a  harsh 
and  un-Christian  judgment.  What  is  dangerous  for  one 
may  not  be  perilous  for  another,  who  is  differently  con- 
stituted. What  is  needless  for  one  may  be  an  absolute 
duty  for  another,  who  is  in  quite  a  different  position. 
Probably  Charlotte  saw  this.  It  is  worth  remarking  that, 
while  she  kept  aloof  from  many  entertainments  out  of  the 
house,  she  never,  either  then  or  in  later  years,  refused  to 
join  in  home-parties,  or  failed  to  do  her  utmost  to  entertain 
the  guests.  There  was  nothing  morbid  or  repellent  about 
the  development  of  her  sense  of  duty. 

TO   MISS  D.   LAURA  TUCKER. 

'Jiily  12,  1848. 
*You  are    my  lovely,  loving,    and  lovable   Laura;   a  Diamond 
among  gems,  and  a  Rosebud  among  flowers.     Why  do  you  mention 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  69 

so  often  the  mere  handwriting  of  your  letters  ?  Do  you  think  that  I 
see  anything  in  them  but  the  kindness  of  her  who  has,  in  the  midst 
of  all  her  engagements,  found  so  much  time  to  devote  to  me  ?  My 
own  Mother  too — how  very  good  to  me  she  has  been  !  I  am  grateful 
to  her  for  all  her  most  kind  endeavours  to  set  my  mind  quite  at  ease 
on  the  subject  of  the  poor  little  Robins.  .  .  . 

'  We  have  taken  it  into  our  heads  that,  what  between  music  and 
teaching  and  writing  and  visiting,  you  may  have  more  work  on  your 
hands  than  may  suit  your  taste.  Under  this  idea,  Fanny,  like  a  dear 
Quixote  as  she  is,  formed  a  grand  plan  of  rushing  up  to  town  on 
Thursday  by  coach  with  uncle  Charlton,  who  happened  to  be  coming, 
and  turning  you  off  the  music-stool,  or  snatching  the  spelling  frame 
from  your  delicate  hand  instanter. 

'  But  I  opposed  this  double-quick  march  for  several  reasons,  which 
I  hope  you  may  think  cogent.  In  the  first  place,  I  hope  that  you 
are  not  so  hard- worked  that  it  would  be  too  much  for  you  for  a  few 
days  more  to  go  on  with  only  the  assistance  of  the  fair  Sibella  and 
Clara.  2ndly,  The  country  seems  really  doing  sweet  Fan  good. 
She  told  me  yesterday  that  she  did  not  know  when  she  had  felt  so 
well.  I  too  am  perfectly  well.  Srdly,  I  think  at  your  full  table  on 
Friday  our  room  would  be  better  than  our  company.  4thly,  We  are 
engaged  to  take  tea  with  Mrs.  Edgecombe  on  that  day.  Sthly,  For 
Fanny  to  start  off  by  coach  and  me  to  follow  by  fly,  would  appear  to 
me  both  an  extravagant  and  extraordinary  procedure.  So,  after  all 
these  reasons,  I  thought  that  we  had  better  fix  on  Saturday  for  the 
day  of  our  departure,  until  I  heard  that  Aunt  must  come  up  to  Town 
on  Monday.  She  offered  to  take  us  up  with  her,  but  as  it  would  of 
course  be  more  agreeable  to  her  to  come  with  us^  I  think  that  we 
shall  find  ourselves  in  dear  old  Portland  Place  on  Monday  morning. 

'  I  am  so  much  obliged  to  dearest  Mamma  for  her  kind  intention 
of  taking  me  to  Thalberg's  splendid  Concert  on  Monday.  It  would 
really  give  me  more  pleasure  if  I  might  present  my  ticket  to  dear 
Fanny  Lanzun,  who  has  been  all  kindness  and  attention  to  us.  You 
know  how  we  wished  that  one  of  our  family  might  hear  Jenny  Lind. 
Now  I  can  hear  through  your  ears  ;  and  none  of  the  Lanzuns  have 
had  that  treat,  you  know.' 

TO  MISS  D.   L.  TUCKER. 

'  Oct,  13,  1848. 
'  Many  thanks  for  your  last  sweet  note  to  me,  and  kind  consent  to 
fill  my  place.  ...  I  do  hope  that  you  may  not  find  teaching  the 


70    LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

wearisome  task  which  I  sometimes  do.  Perhaps  Aunt  Laura  may 
succeed  better  in  fixing  the  attention  of  her  little  pupils.  At  all  events, 
/  am  grateful  to  you  for  undertaking  the  trouble.  You  are  dear  to  a 
sister's  heart,  sweet  Laura,  and  I  hope  that  you  are  one  of  the 
blessings  for  which  I  am  not  unthankful.  .  .  . 

'  I  had  two  delightful  games  of  chess  yesterday  with  my  dear 
Father.  .  .  .  What  an  awful  state  Vienna  is  in  !  Is  not  the  murder 
of  Count  Latour  dreadful  ? ' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

*  Oct.  lo,  1849. 

'Another  sweet  note  from  my  darling  Laura.  I  am  rich  in  letters 
to-day,  for  I  have  received  three  such  nice  ones. 

'  Yesterday  evening  I  spent  about  an  hour  at  the  piano.  I  did  not, 
however,  sing  any  of  your  especial  songs.  I  began  one  day — '  The 
world  is  so  bright ' — but  my  heart  and  voice  failed,  because  you  were 
away.  However,  I  daresay  that  I  shall  try  again  this  evening. 
How  it  would  cut  up  my  music,  were  you  to  go  to  any  great  distance, 
for  most  of  my  favourite  songs  are  yours.  How  I  have  enjoyed 
hearing  you  sing  them.  .  .  .  Farewell,  sweet  Laura.  I  must  go  and 
hear  my  children  their  lessons.  I  hear  their  little  feet  and  voices 
above  me.' 


CHAPTER    VI 

A.D.  1847-1850 

GRAVITY  AND   FUN 

Though  verging  now  on  her  thirtieth  year,  Charlotte 
Tucker  was  still  unknown  to  the  public  as  an  Author.  If 
the  initials  A.  L.  O.  E.  existed  in  her  mind  as  a  future 
possibility,  they  had  at  least  not  yet  appeared  upon  any 
printed  page. 

From  time  to  time,  however,  her  pen  was  busy  ;  still  in 
the  old  line  of  comic  or  tragic  plays,  for  home  amusement. 
In  1847  she  wrote  The  Castle  of  Sternalt;  a  Tragedy  in 
Two  Acts;  belonging  to  the  Cavalier  and  Roundhead 
period  of  England's  history.  In  that  same  year  she  also 
accomplished  Grimhaggard  Hall;  a  Farce  in  Two  Acts — 
not  historical,  but  highly  comic.  After  which  came 
apparently  a  gap  of  two  or  three  years  ;  and  in  1850  she 
wrote.  Who  Was  The  Witch  ?  a  Drama  in  Three  Acts 
— historical  again,  belonging  to  the  days  of  the  Saxons 
and  of  King  Harold,  half  comic,  half  tragic. 

It   does  not   appear  from   these   three   plays   that  her 

gift  in  the  dramatic  line  had  made  any  marked  advance 

during  the  ten  years  or  more  which   had  elapsed   since 

first   she   launched   out   in   this   direction.     Probably   an 

entirely  different  mode  of  life  from  hers,  a  less  sheltered 

existence,  a  more  extensive  knowledge  of  human  nature 

in  its  countless  phases,  is  an  absolute  necessity  to  such 

development.     There  is  in  them  much  latent  power,  how- 

71 


72  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

ever  unequal  and  undeveloped,  whether  it  be  of  the  grave 
or  of  the  sparkling  and  humorous  description.  The 
following  quotation  from  the  Castle  of  Sternalt  will  give 
an  idea  of  her  tragic  style  at  that  period.  Ravensby,  the 
hero,  is  a  Cavalier,  imprisoned  and  condemned  to  death 
on  a  false  charge  of  murder. 

ACT   IV.— SCENE  I. 

a  dungeon. 
Ravensby. 

*  Th'  intensity  of  grief  destroys  itself 
The  torturer  beholds  his  Victim  stretched 
Unconscious,  pain  itself  o'ercome  by  pain. 
Fate  dooms  me  now  to  death  ;  last  punishment 
Which  mortal  can  inflict, — and  yet  I  feel 
There 's  mercy  in  the  doom.     Thus  to  live  on 
Were  lingering  martyrdom  ;  it  were  to  die 
By  inches,  drain  my  heart's  blood  drop  by  drop. 
One  flash  ends  all !     O  Clara,  when  my  soul 
Hath  ceased  to  suffer,  can  it  cease  to  love  ? 
Methinks,  when  quitting  Earth,  'twill  still  retain 
Her  image,  who  was  more  than  Earth  to  me  ! 
It  is  a  portion  of  my  being,  twined 
With  every  thought  and  feeling  ;  thou  wilt  weep, 
My  Clara  ;  thou  canst  not  believe  him  false 
To  faith  and  friends,  who  is  so  true  to  thee. 
Gazing  into  the  uncorrupted  depths 
Of  thy  pure  feelings,  thou  wilt  judge  of  mine. 
When  all  denounced  me,  thou  wert  still  my  friend 
When  all  forget,  thou  wilt  remember  still ! 

Enter  Agnes. 
Agnes,  aside. 

I  ne'er  have  feared  the  eye  of  mortal  man, 

Why  should  I  shrink  from  his  ? 
Ray.   Who  comes  to  break 

The  prisoner's  solitude  ? 
Agn.   One  who  would  be 

The  prisoner's  friend. 
Ray.    I  have  no  friend — save  one. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  73 

Agn.   Can  he  speak  thus  who  hath  so  long  espoused 

The  Royal  cause,  and  served  that  cause  so  well  ? 

Who,  girt  with  honours,  well  deserved,  hath  stood 

One  in  a  noble  Brotherhood  of  Fame  ! 

Where  are  the  Cavaliers  who  fought  with  thee 

In  battle,  side  by  side,  who  with  thee  shared 

The  feast,  and  drained  the  wine-cup  to  your  King  ? 

Where  are  they  now  ?  what,  gone  ?  not  one  remains, 

T'  assert  thy  innocence,  or  shield  thee  from 

An  ignominious  death.     Friends  !  out  upon  them  ! 

They  mock  the  name  ;  it  were  not  thus,  if  thou 

Hadst  drawn  thy  gallant  sword  with  those  who  wear 

No  chains  but  those  of  Virtue,  those  who  own 

No  earthly  Monarch,  and  uphold  no  power 

But  that  of  Liberty  ;  whose  friendship  lasts 

Not  only  when  the  red  wine  sparkles  high, 

And  revelry  and  song  profane  the  night ; 

If  such  had  been  thy  comrades  and  thy  friends. 

Thou  hadst  not  been  forsaken  thus. 

Rav.   No  more  ! 

Agn.   The  gate  thou  hast  defended  with  thy  blood, 
To-morrow  casts  thee  forth,  led  out  to  die  ; 
And  the  proud  towers  coldly  will  look  down 
Upon  the  closing  scene  ;  for  hearts  more  hard 
And  more  impregnable  decree  thy  doom. 
Thou  diest  a  traitor's  death  ; — but  wert  thou  ours^ 
Then  ev'ry  bush  around  the  fatal  spot 
Should  hold  an  armed  defender,  ev'ry  knoll 
Conceal  an  ambushed  friend,  and  at  a  word 
A  wall  of  steel  should  bristle  round  thy  breast ; 
Then  swords  should  clash  with  swords,  and  they  who  came 
To  shed  thy  blood  lie  weltering  in  their  own. 
If  thou  wert  ours — and  yet  thou  mayst  be  ours, 

Rav.  Cease,  for  I  know  thee,  Temptress  ;  words  like  these 
Betray  the  fair  false  lips  from  which  they  flow. 
Thou  'rt  Agnes,  own  it, — Gasper  Tarlton's  love. 

Agn.  Agnes  I  am,  not  Gasper  Tarlton's  love. 

The  thistledown  that  floats  upon  the  breeze, 

The  thorny  weed  which  from  my  path  I  spurn, 

The  insect  which  I  crush  beneath  my  tread, 

Are  not  to  me  more  insignificant, 

More  worthless — than  the  Slave  whom  thou  hast  named. 


74  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Rav.  Thank  Heaven  !  then  my  last  doubt  melts  away  ;  ' 

He  yet  is  true,  yet  faithful  to  his  King  ; 

My  sacrifice  will  not  be  made  for  nought. 

Maid,  he  is  honoured  in  thy  hate  ! 

Agn.  And  thou 

Rav.  Leave  me. 

Agn.  To  perish  ! 

Rav.  Thou  canst  not  defend. 

Agn.  I  could, — yes,  I  could  arm  in  thy  behalf 

A  thousand  gallant  hands,  might  I  but  say, 

*  The  injured  will  on  the  oppressor  turn, 

Unite  the  love  of  freedom  with  revenge, 

A  thousand-fold  repay  the  debt  he  owes 

To  your  brave  confidence  ;  in  Raven  sby 

Ye  will  destroy  a  foe  and  win  a  friend  ! ' 

Could  I  speak  thus 

Rav.  Thy  sex  protects  thee.  Maid, 

Or  thou  shouldst  learn  the  meed  of  treason.     Hence  ! 
Agn.   From  other  lips  such  words  I  had  not  borne. 

Why  should  I  thus  urge  life  upon  thee, — why 

Seek  to  preserve  thee  in  thine  own  despite  .'^ 

0  thou  art  worthy  of  a  nobler  cause  ; 

1  see  in  thee  one  who  can  nobly  dare. 
Firmly  resolve,  and  boldly  execute  ; — 

And  what  a  bright  career  before  thee  lies 

Rav.  a  brief  one, — from  the  dungeon  to  the  tomb. 

Agn.  To  die  a  Traitor  in  the  eyes  of  men. 

Rav.  Better  than  live  a  villain  in  my  own. 

Depart,  and  leave  me  to  my  fate.     Away ! 

Agn.  O  brave  and  glorious  !     I  will  tempt  no  more. 
My  pride  is  humbled.     I  have  found  a  soul 
That  soars  beyond  mine  own.     I  would  not  rob 
Thy  pinion  of  one  plume.      I  watch  thy  flight 
With  kindling  emulation.     O  for  power 
To  follow  it,  that  I  above  this  sphere 
Might  rise  ;  companion,  not  unworthy  thee  ! 

Rav.  a  step  approaches. 

Agn.  None  must  see  me  here.     \Retires  into  shade.'] 

Agnes  in  the  end  confesses  herself  guilty  of  the  crime 
for  which  he  is  condemned  to  death  ; — in  time  to  save  his 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  75 

name  from  lasting  disgrace,  though  not  in  time  to  save 
his  life. 

Who  Was  The  Witch  ?  though  in  parts  amusing  enough, 
is  hardly  so  good  as  the  others.  Modern  English  puns  sit 
oddly  upon  a  background  of  pre-mediaeval  Saxon  history. 
Grhnhaggard  Hall  is  perhaps  one  of  A.  L.  O.  E.'s  most 
comic  and  laughable  J eux-d' esprit,  over  which  one  can 
picture  the  family  as  enjoying  many  a  hearty  laugh.  The 
perpetual  play  upon  words,  and  the  almost  rollicking  fun 
and  nonsense  of  the  whole,  remind  one  of  her  earlier  effort. 
The  Pretender,  already  given  at  length  ;  though  the  later- 
written  farce  is  in  some  respects  scarcely  equal  to  the 
girlish  achievement.  Both  these  plays  illustrate  well  ithe 
frisky  and  frolicsome  side  of  a  character  which  was  in  some 
respects  not  only  intensely  serious,  but  absolutely  stern. 
Charlotte  Tucker's  was  truly  a  many-sided  nature. 

Whether  at  this  time  she  had  already  begun  to  write 
anything  in  the  shape  of  children's  story-books  does  not 
appear.  It  is  by  no  means  unlikely,  since  the  date  of  her 
first  appearance  in  print  was  now  fast  drawing  near. 

The  chief  characters  in  Grimhaggard  Hall  are — Mr. 
Cramp ;  Mr.  Scull,  an  artist ;  Mr.  Wriggle,  a  tutor ;  Miss 
Cob  ;  and  Nellie,  daughter  of  Mr.  Cramp. 

ACT  I. 

Library  i7i  Grimhaggard  Hall.     Nellie  and  Mr.  Wriggle. 

Nellie.  O  my  dear  old  Tutor,  I  shall  be  so  sorry  to  lose  you  !  I 
wish  that  my  good  Father  had  kept  to  his  old  plan,  and  instead  of 
sending  Bob  to  College  had  kept  both  you  and  him  here.  This  house 
is  so  intolerably  dull.  When  you  are  gone  I  shall  sit  looking  at  the 
old  stones  in  the  old  wall,  till  I  petrify  into  one  myself.  Why,  the 
very  spiders'  webs  look  as  though  there  were  no  business  doing  in 
them,  and  not  a  fly  nor  even  a  broom  would  call  at  the  door ! 
Heigh-ho ! 


76  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Wrig.  You  forget,  honoured  Madam,  the  governess,  Miss  Cob, 
who  is  expected  here  to-morrow. 

Nell.  A  governess ;  the  horror  !  then  I  hear  that  she  is  an 
oddity ;  so  absent  ;  very  learned  though,  and  extremely  well-in- 
formed. I  am  rather  old  for  a  governess  ;  I  was  seventeen  last 
March.  It  would  have  been  quite  a  different  thing  to  have  gone  on 
with  my  studies  here  with  you  and  Bob.  Do  you  know  that,  without 
vanity,  I  consider  that  I  have  made  amazing  progress  during  the 
month  that  you  have  been  here  ? 

Wrig.  In  Geography,  Madam,  for  instance.  Let  me  have  the 
honour  of  recalling  to  your  oblivious  memory  that  only  yesterday  you 
forgot  the  situation  of  Guinea. 

Nell.  Nonsense  !  I  said  that  it  was  on  the  Gold  Coast,  and 
wished  I  had  it  in  my  own  pocket. 

Wrig.  I  have  remarked  with  regret,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  say 
it,  an  aversion  to  consulting  the  Atlas,  which 

Nell.  Keep  me  from  you  and  your  atlas  !  Atlas  carried  the  world, 
and  you  would  burden  me  with  the  Atlas.  I  hardly  consider  myself 
competent  yet  to  carry  the  whole  globe  on  my  poor  little  shoulders. 
I  should  like  to  know  what  is  the  use  of  knowing  the  situation  of  this 
place  and  that  place,  to  one  who  never  has  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
any  place  at  all  beyond  the  walls  of  our  stupid  garden.  I  wish  that 
the  cross  old  gentleman  who  bequeathed  my  father  Grimhaggard 
Hall,  had  lived  to  repent  it,  that  I  do  !  I  would  rather  live  in  the 
narrowest  lane  in  the  City  than  be  cooped  up  here  like  a  toad 
in  a  block.  I  've  no  fancy  to  be  a  Penelope, — stitch,  stitch, 
stitch  ! 

Wrig.  Penelope  was  a  distinguished  ornament  to  her  sex. 

Nell.  O  dear  Tutor,  I  know  that  she  was  a  duck  of  a  queen,  but 
distinguished  for  nothing  but  her  web-feat. 

Wrig.  The  resource  of  literature  remains  to  you.  Madam,  which 
was  never  open  to  her.  I  would  again  venture  to  draw  your  attention 
to  the  subject  of  Geography. 

Nell.  O  no  more  of  that,  I  beg,  my  dear  Mr.  Wriggle.  I  know 
that  Ham  and  Sandwich  are  in  the  kitchen,  China  in  the  cupboard, 
and  Madeira  in  the  cellar.  That  is  enough  for  me.  I  regard  Geo- 
graphy simply  in  reference  to  utility.  I'm  quite  a  utilitarian  by 
principle.  You  know  that  the  greatest  navigator  was  a  Cook  ;  I  dare 
say  that  he  discovered  Chiii,  Cayenne,  and  Curagoa.  Now  do  you 
know,  my  wise  old  Tutor,  in  spite  of  your  white  hair  and  all  your 
learning,  I  think  that  I  could  puzzle  you. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  77 

Wrig.  It  would  be  difficult,  Madam,  to  place  a  limit  to  your 
powers. 

Nell.  Tell  me,  why  is  Botany  Bay  called  Botany  Bay? 

Wrig.  I  am  not,  I  must  own,  aware  from  what  the  name  is  de- 
rived. Probably  the  Botanist  has  there  discovered  some  new  and 
curious  specimens  of  plants. 

Nell.  O  you  must  have  come  from  Dimse  or  the  Scilly  Isles. 
Botany  Bay  is  called  Botany  Bay,  because  blossoms  of  the  birch  and 
sprigs  of  the  gallows-tree  are  transplanted  there  without  their 
leaves. 

Wrig.  I  see  !  I  see  !     Ha,  ha  ! 

Nell.  I  wonder  if  Miss  Cob  will  understand  a  joke, — if  she  will 
ever  perpetrate  a  pun.  Do  you  know  I  fancy  her  such  a  prim  old 
quiz  ?  I  should  like  to  know  whether  she  will  play  at  chess  with 
Papa,  or  teach  me  the  guitar,  as  you  do.  Do  you  think  that  she  will 
endure  this  house .? 

Wrig.  The  total  want  of  all  society,  except  that  which  the  walls 
of  Grimhaggard  Hall  have  the  honour  constantly  to  enclose,  may 
perhaps  have  an  effect  upon  the  lady's  spirits  not  altogether  exhilarat- 
ing ;  but  when  your  brother  returns  from  College,  perhaps  he  may 
be  accompanied  by  some  of  his  fellow-students. 

Nell.  Students  ;  what  an  idea  !  When  my  Father  would  sooner 
see  a  Goblin  than  a  young  man  under  any  circumstances  ! 

Wrig.  Is  not  this  rather  a  peculiar — rather  a  singular — I  would 
say  prejudice  ?  Could  such  a  word  be  applicable  to  the  excellent  Mr. 
Cramp  ? 

Nell.  I  should  say  very  singular  indeed,  did  I  not  know  its  cause. 

Wrig.  Is  it  presumptuous  to  inquire  what  that  cause  may  be  1 

Nell.  O  I  '11  tell  you  in  a  moment.  It  all  arises  out  of  the  freaks 
and  folly  of  Mr.  Grim  of  Grimhaggard  Hall,  who  had,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  the  kindness  to  leave  us  this  property,  and  thereby  consigned  me 
to  the  dolefuls  for  the  rest  of  my  life. 

Wrig.  Was  the  estate  bequeathed  under  any  unpleasant  condi- 
tions ?     I  never  heard  your  respected  father  complain  of  such. 

Nell.  O  it  is  all  right  to  my  father  because  it  was  all  left  to  him. 
But  you  shall  hear.  This  Mr.  Grim  had  a  promising  nephew,  .  .  . 
and  this  nephew,  Mr.  Atherton  by  name,  was  very  naturally  con- 
sidered as  Mr.  Grim's  heir,  the  old  gentleman  never  having  persuaded 
any  lady  to  marry  him,  and  reign  like  another  Proserpine  over  the 
gloomy  shades  of  Grimhaggard  Hall. 

Wrig.  How  then  came  the  estate  to  your  Father  ? 


78  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Nell.  Have  a  little  patience,  my  dear  Mr.  Wriggle,  and  you  shall 
be  as  learned  as  myself  upon  the  subject.  Well,  this  old  uncle 
quarrelled  with  this  young  nephew.  I  think  that  it  was  about  poli- 
tics or  some  such  absurdity  ;  the  elder  was  a  Tory  and  the  junior  a 
Radical ;  no,  the  young  one  was  the  Tory,  and  the  old  one  the  Radi- 
cal ;  and  this  radical  question  was  the  root  of  the  quarrel.  Now 
what  do  you  think  the  spiteful  old  gentleman  did  ? 
^  Wrig.  Disinherited  his  nephew,  and  left  the  property  to  Mr. 
Cramp. 

Nell.  That  would  have  been  a  pretty  severe  lesson  to  the  young 
man  ;  but  what  do  you  say  to  the  affectionate  uncle  leaving  such 
a  clause  as  this  in  his  will  ?  That  my  father  must  only  have  and 
hold  this  said  Grimhaggard  Hall,  on  condition  of  poor  Mr.  Ather- 
ton's  never  even  crossing  the  threshold  of  what  he  once  considered 
his  home  !  The  place  must  be  perfectly  >^^/r- tight.  If  he  ever 
passes  twelve  hours  under  this  roof,  the  whole  estate  is  to  revert 
to  him. 

Wrig.  Such  a  clause  argues  little  charity ;  but  perhaps  it  may 
ultimately  prove  for  the  benefit  of  him  whom  it  was  designed  to 
injure. 

Nell.  Ah,  you  think  that  Mr.  Atherton  may  still  manage  to  get 
his  property  out  of  his  old  uncle's  clause  !  I  am  sure  I  wish  that  Mr. 
Grim  had  left  the  dull  place  to  him,  or  any  one  but  us  ;  but  then  my 
Father  is  not  of  my  mind.  Yet  even  he  has  not  an  atom  of  enjoyment 
of  his  prize,  from  the  perpetual  fear  of  losing  it.  He  has  heard  that 
young  Atherton  is  very  sharp  and  clever  ;  of  course  he  will  try  to 
regain  his  rights  by  any  means  that  may  present  themselves  ;  so  I 
really  believe  that  Papa  expects  him  to  appear  some  day  or  other 
through  the  key-hole.  The  gate  is  kept  constantly  locked, — luckily, 
one  can  see  the  high-road  from  the  house, — nothing  in  the  shape  of 
a  Man  is  permitted  to  pass  it ;  we  have  even  parted  with  all  men- 
servants,  lest  Mr.  Atherton  should  manage  to  get  in  disguised  as  a 
lackey.  Grimhaggard  Hall  is  a  regular  Convent.  A  travelling 
pedlar  is  regarded  with  suspicion  ;  the  butcher-boy  must  hand  the 
leg  of  mutton  over  the  gate  ;  the  young  apothecary  is  an  object  of 
terror, — I  could  not  have  a  tooth  pulled  out,  were  I  to  die  for  it. 
Dear  me,  how  it  is  raining !  The  weather  seems  endeavouring  to 
find  out  whether  it  be  possible  to  make  Grimhaggard  Hall  look  a  little 
duller  than  usual. 

Wrig.  I  hope  Miss  Cob  may  be  fortunate  in  having  finer  weather 
for  her  journey  to-morrow. 

Nell.  She  is  on  the  road  to-day,  like  John  Gilpin's  hat  and  wig. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  79 

She  was  to  leave  Puddingham  this  morning,  and  rest  to-night  at  the 
Jolly  Bridecake  at  Mouseton.  I  hope  the  coach  is  provided  with  oar 
and  rudders,  for  she  will  certainly  have  to  swim  for  it !  .  .  . 

In  the  midst  of  this  talk  an  artist's  gig  is  smashed  outside 
the  front  gate  ;  and  the  artist,  Mr.  Scull,  being  much  shaken, 
is  actually  admitted  within  the  walls  of  the  old  Hall,  to  the 
great  disquiet  of  Mr.  Cramp,  who  is  determined  that,  come 
what  may,  the  young  man  shall  not  remain  through  the 
night.  It  is  a  pelting  day,  and  no  other  conveyance 
seems  likely  to  pass  ;  while  the  artist  is  plainly  unable  to 
walk  the  distance  which  separates  Grimhaggard  Hall 
from  the  next  town.  While  this  matter  is  still  under  dis- 
cussion, a  ring  at  the  front-door  bell  is  heard,  and  'a 
woman  of  very  singular  appearance '  is  seen  '  standing  in 
the  rain,  without  an  umbrella,  as  if  water  were  her  native 
element' 

Nell.  Who  can  it  be?  \Runs  to  the  window.']  Why,  how  tall 
she  is  !  she  looks  as  though  she  had  grown  a  foot  since  that  dress 
was  made  for  her.  What  an  extraordinary  figure  !  Why,  Sarah  is 
actually  letting  her  in.  Papa,  we  have  not  had  so  many  visitors 
since  we  came  here.     Grimhaggard  Hall  is  growing  quite  gay. 

Cramp.  I  will  go  and  meet  this  strange  guest.     [Exit.] 

Nell.  It  cannot  be — it  cannot  be  Miss  Cob  !  Such  a  governess 
would  kill  me  either  with  terror  or  with  laughter. 

Wrig.  You  were  in  expectation,  Madam,  of  some  one  remarkable 
for  eccentricity.  We  must  not  always  judge  of  the  qualities  of  the 
mind  by  the  singularity  of  the  exterior. 

Ejiter  Mr.  Cramp  and  Miss  Cob. 

Cramp.  Miss  Cob, — my  daughter.  [Nelly  makes  a  curtsey^  Miss 
Cob  a  dow.] 

Nell.    [Aside  to  Wriggle.]  I  shall  never  keep  my  countenance. 

Wrig.  [Aside.]  That  is  to  be  regretted,  for  it  is  a  very  fair  one. 

Cramp.  We  did  not  expect  you  to-night,  Ma'am.  Did  you  not 
purpose  sleeping  at  Mousetown  ? 

Miss  C.  The  inn  was  chock-full. 

Cramp.  But  how  came  you  to  be  on  foot?  You  never  have 
walked  all  the  way  !  Where  is  your  conveyance  ?  It  would  be  of  the 
utmost  service  to  me. 


8o  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Miss  C.  Smashed  on  the  road. 

Cramp.  Well,  if  all  the  gigs  and  cabs  in  England  are  not  in 
coalition  against  me  this  day  !     And  where  is  your  luggage  ? 

Miss  C.  Coming.  You  did  not  expect  me  to  carry  it  on  my  back, 
like  a  snail,  did  ye  ? 

Wrig.  Miss  Cob,  like  an  experienced  general,  leaves  her  baggage 
in  the  rear. 

Nell.  I  should  rather  have  expected  to  find  it  in  the  van.  You 
are  very  wet.  Ma'am ;  shall  I  help  you  off  with  your  cloak  ? 

Miss  C.  O  never  mind.  I'm  neither  sugar  nor  salt;  only  it's  a 
plaguy  thing  to  have  one's  dress  so  long,  walking  through  such  a 
bog. 

Nell.  [Aside.]  How  lon^  she  may  have  had  her  dress,  I  know 
not ;  but  in  one  sense  I  am  sure  it  is  short  enough. 

Miss  C.  This  seems  a  good  big  house,  but  rather  too  much  like  a 
prison.     Have  you  those  bars  on  all  the  windows .'' 

Cramp.  On  all. 

Miss  C.  And  how  many  men-servants  do  you  keep  ? 

Cramp.  None  at  all.     [Aside.]  What  impertinent  curiosity  ! 

Nell.  [Aside.]  Shall  I  venture  to  address  her  again  ?  I  can 
scarcely  command  myself.  [Aloud.]  Pray,  Ma'am,  are  you  fond  of 
music  ? 

Miss  C.  I'm  a  regular  dab  at  it. 

Nell.  What  instrument  do  you  play  ? 

Miss  C.  All  sorts  of  instruments,  from  the  drum  to  the  Jew's  harp. 

Nell.  You  don't  play  the  cornopion  ? 

Miss  C.  Like  bricks, — and  sing  all  the  time.  You  shall  hear  me 
to-morrow.     [All  stare  in  mute  amazement^ 

Cramp.  May  I  trouble  you.  Ma'am,  to  let  me  see  your  letter  of 
introduction  from  Lady  Myres  again  ? 

Miss  C.  Heartily  welcome.  You  will  read  all  about  me  there. 
.Full  details  of  manners  and  accomplishments.  She  says  I  'm  a  little 
absent  sometimes  ;  so  if  ever  I  make  a  few  trifling  blunders,  I  hope 
you  '11  set  them  down  to  that  score. 

Nell.  [Aside  to  Wriggles.]  I  wish  she  were  absent  now,  for 
I  think  I  shall  die  in  convulsions. 

Miss  C.  I  '11  teach  you  all  sorts  of  things  suitable  for  a  lady. 
Knitting,  netting, — crow — crowfoot  .  .  . 

Wrig.  I  see  that  nothing  is  beyond  your  apprehension. 

Miss  C.  What  do  you  say  about  a^i>rehension  ?  Are  you  a  police 
officer  ? 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  8i 

Wrig.  No,  Madam,  I  am  a  humble  Professor  of  Geography, 
Geology,  Algebra,  and  .  .  . 

Miss  C.  O  I  'm  a  match  for  you  in  all  that,  and  I  know  Latin,  Greek, 
and  American  besides. 

Wrig.  And  what  tongue,  Madam,  do  you  prefer? 

Miss  C.  O  I  'm  not  particular  about  those  sort  of  things ;  but  if 
you  want  my  opinion,  why  I  think  pickled  tongues  are  excellent. 

Wrig.  \Turning  away  laughing^  This  is  either  too  bad  or  too 
good  !     [A/otid.]  And  your  other  studies,  Ma'am? 

Miss  C.  As  for  Arithmetics,  they're  at  my  fingers'-ends. 

Nell.  I  have  not  yet  got  beyond  the  Rule  of  Three. 

Miss  C.  You  shall  know  the  Rule  of  Four-and-twenty,  before  I 
have  done  with  you.    We  '11  skip  the  4,  5,  and  6. 

Nell.  And  the  Rule  of  Three  inverse  ? 

Miss  C.  In  verse?  Yes,  you  shall  have  it  in  all  sorts  of  verse, 
merry,  tragical,  and  comical. 

Nell,  [Aside.]  I  shall  expire  with  laughter.  \Retires  to  the 
window^ 

Wrig.  [Asz'de.]  I  really  cannot  stand  this  any  longer.  {Follows 
her.] 

Scull  (the  artist).  Pray,  Madam,  may  I  venture  to  ask  if  you 
paint  ? 

Miss  C.  You  are  a  very  impudent  fellow,  to  ask  a  gentle — woman 
if  she  paints.     Do  I  look  as  if  I  painted  ? 

Scull.  I  beg  a  million  pardons.  Ma'am,  but  as  I  paint  myself  .  .  . 

Miss  C.  You  paint  precious  badly  then,  for  you  're  as  yellow  as  a 
cowslip  ! 

Cramp.  [Aside.']  Is  the  woman  intoxicated  or  insane? 

Scull.  I  think — I  imagine  that  there  is  a  little  misapprehension, 
Ma'am,  on  your  part.     My  vocation  is  that  of  an  artist. 

Nell.  O  Miss  Cob,  you  must  see  his  sketches. 

Scull.  You  see.  Ma'am,  there  is  a  new  work  to  come  out  at 
Christmas,  which  is  to  be  entitled, —  The  Mouse  on  the  Mantelpiece. 
The  letterpress  is  in  very  able  hands,  —a  very  pretty  little  fairy-tale 
for  grown-up  children, — that 's  all  the  rage  now,  you  know,  in  this 
enlightened  age.  But  the  illustrations  will  be  the  great  thing.  A 
steel-plate  frontispiece,  of  course,  in  which  will  be  introduced  a 
number  of  winged  mice  in  a  variety  of  positions, — a  very  clever  thing, 
I  can  assure  you  ;  and  then  wood-cuts, — I  have  the  honour  of  being 
intrusted  with  the  designs  for  them.  We  are  to  have  a  different 
illustration  for  the  top  of  every  column. 


82      LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

Nell.  That  will  no  doubt  be  capital. 

Scull.  It  will  form  a  very  elegant  little  volume  altogether, — the 
most  remarkable  publication  of  the  day. 

Miss  C.  Well,  after  my  wet  walk,  I  think  I  'd  be  the  better  for 
something  to  warm  me. 

Nell.  You  shall  have  some  tea  directly,  Ma'am. 

Miss  C.  Tea  !     Wishy-washy  stuff! 

Nell.  Would  you  prefer  gruel  ? 

Miss  C.  Gruel  !     I  wish  you  joy  of  your  fare  ! 

Nell.  [Aszde.]  The  fair  Arithmetician  looks  as  though  she  would 
not  have  3  Scruples  to  a  Dram  ! 

Cramp.  I  dare  say  Miss  Cob  is  fatigued  after  her  long  walk. 
Nelly,  show  her  the  apartment.  I  hope  everything  is  comfortable 
there. 

Nell.  Certainly,  Papa.  {^Aside  to  Wriggle.]  At  any  rate,  I  will 
venture  to  say  that  her  room  is  better  than  her  company.  \Exeunt 
Nelly  and  Miss  Cob.] 

And  so  on, — the  wind-up  of  the  story  being  that  Miss 
Cob  is  found  to  be  a  burglar  in  woman's  disguise ;  while 
the  artist  is  a  harmless  nobody.  But  elderly  Wriggles, 
the  tutor,  who  has  lived  quietly  in  the  house  for  a  month 
past,  and  of  whom  even  Mr.  Cramp  has  had  no  suspicions, 
turns  out  to  be  the  much  dreaded  nephew,  and  to 
him  by  right  Grimhaggard  Hall  now  appertains.  As, 
however,  he  has  managed  to  fall  deeply  in  love  with  the 
punning  heroine,  all  difficulties  are  solved  by  their 
marriage, — Nellie  being  equally  in  love  with  him.  Thus 
the  nephew  gains  the  old  home,  and  the  uncle  does  not 
lose  it. 


CHAPTER    VII 

A.D.    1849-1853 
THE  FIRST  GREAT  SORROW,  AND   THE   FIRST  BOOK 

It  must  have  been  at  about  this  time  that  Charlotte  became 
increasingly  anxious  for  more  of  definite  outdoor  work 
among  the  poor.  Her  wish  was  to  be  allowed  to  visit  in 
the  Marylebone  Workhouse ;  but  difficulties  for  a  while 
barred  her  way.  Mr.  Tucker  objected  strongly,  fearing 
the  risk  of  infectious  diseases  for  his  daughters ;  and  no 
doubt  the  risk  in  those  days  was  far  greater  than  in  these, 
considering  the  then  condition  of  Workhouses  generally. 

So  long  as  permission  was  refused,  Charlotte  seems  to 
have  contented  herself  with  the  simple  duties  of  home-life. 
She  was  not  one  who  would  restlessly  fight  for  and  insist 
upon  her  own  way  at  all  costs,  under  the  plea  of  doing 
what  was  right.  Rather,  one  may  be  sure,  she  counted  the 
prohibition  as  in  itself  sufficient  indication  of  the  Divine 
Will.  However,  while  submitting,  she  probably  used  from 
time  to  time  some  little  pressure  to  bring  about  another 
state  of  things ;  and  somewhere  about  the  beginning  of 
1851  her  parents'  'reluctant  consent'  was,  we  are  told,  at 
length  given.  From  that  time  she  and  Fanny  visited 
regularly  in  the  Workhouse. 

In  1849  Charlotte's  eldest  sister,  Sibella,  was  married  to 
the  Rev.  Frederick  Hamilton,  for  some  time  Curate  to  Mr. 
Garnier,  the  Vicar  of  Holy  Trinity  Church,  which  they  all 
regularly   attended.      Mr.    Garnier    and    his   wife.   Lady 

83 


84  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Caroline,  were  especial  friends  of  Charlotte,  through  many 
a  long  year.  Thus  the  first  break  in  the  charmed  circle  of 
sisters  was  made ;  and  Fanny  was  now  '  Miss  Tucker,' 
Charlotte  being  the  second  home-daughter. 

Until  the  spring  of  1850  Mr.  Tucker  kept  his  health 
and  vigour  to  a  marvellous  extent  for  a  man  eighty  years 
old, — for  one  too  who  had  worked  more  or  less  hard 
through  life  from  the  age  of  fourteen  or  fifteen.  He  still 
attended  to  his  India  House  business,  not  seeming  to  find 
it  too  much  for  his  strength  ;  and  in  the  April  of  that  year, 
after  making  a  speech  in  Court,  he  was  congratulated  by 
a  brother-Director  upon  the  force  and  energy  with  which 
he  had  spoken.  '  Ah,'  he  replied,  '  it  is  only  the  last 
flicker  of  the  taper  before  it  goes  out' 

No  one  had  noticed  aught  to  be  wrong  with  him,  but 
perhaps  he  had  himself  been  conscious  of  failing  power. 
Soon  afterwards  a  sharp  attack  of  fever  and  inflammation 
laid  him  low,  and  most  serious  fears  for  his  life  were  felt. 
It  was  a  time  of  terrible  suspense  to  his  own  family  ;  not 
least  so  to  Charlotte,  who  had  always  loved  him  with  an 
intense  devotion.  Probably  few  fathers  are  quite  so 
devotedly  beloved  as  was  old  Mr.  Tucker ;  but  not  many 
men,  and  especially  not  many  men  of  his  years,  can  throw 
themselves  into  the  interests  and  amusements  of  their 
children,  as  he  was  able  to  do. 

They  had  till  then  hardly  realised  how  suddenly 
the  call  might  come.  As  his  biographer  says,  he  had 
been  always  '  so  full  of  life,  there  had  been  so  much 
activity  of  body,  so  much  energy  of  mind,  so  much 
elasticity  of  spirit,  that  they  had  never  associated  with  all 
this  vitality  a  thought  of  the  stillness  of  death.'  Now, 
without  warning,  the  foe  was  at  their  very  door  ;  and  the 
shadow  of  his  great  danger  weighed  heavily  upon  them  all. 

In  answer  to  many  prayers  he  was  given  back  to  them 
again,  just  for  a  little  while.     But  they  could  never  quite 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  85 

forget  how  nearly  he  had  been  taken  from  them,  how 
unexpectedly  the  great  separation  might  come. 

Another  event  of  1850  was  the  marriage  of  Charlotte's 
brother,  William  Tucker,  at  Brussels.  It  came  almost 
immediately  upon  Mr.  Tucker's  rally  from  his  severe 
illness ;  and  Charlotte  had  the  pleasure  of  being  taken 
to  Brussels  for  the  wedding  by  her  brother,  St.  George 
Tucker,  then  home  for  a  short  time  from  India.  It 
would  be  interesting  to  know  her  first  impressions  of  the 
Continent,  but  not  many  letters  of  this  date  are  available. 
The  two  which  follow  are  among  the  last  belonging  to  her 
unshadowed  younger  life,  before  the  true  meaning  of  loss 
and  sorrow  had  dawned  upon  her.  One  black  cloud  had 
gathered  and  dispersed  ;  but  it  was  soon  to  roll  up  again  ; 
and  then  the  storm  would  break. 

'  Oct.  3,  1850. 

'  Dearest  Laura,— We  have  finished  the  volume  of  stories 
which  we  were  reading — which  by  the  way  resembled  the  pottles  of 
strawberries  sold  in  the  streets,  capital  at  the  beginning,  but  as  one 
gets  further  on,  miserably  inferior — and  now  Fanny  has  gone  to  her 
dear  Will-making,  so  I  keep  her  pen  in  company  by  writing  to  you. 
I  soon  knocked  off  my  Will,  and  we  have  just  the  same  sum  to 
dispose  of,  but  her  large  sheets  of  paper  are  not  covered  yet. 

'  Now  what  shall  I  write  to  you  about,  dear — for  we  write  so 
often  that  it  is  impossible  that  we  should  often  have  much  to  write 
about  ?  The  sun  shines  one  day,  and  does  not  shine  another  ;  the 
sea  is  rough  one  morning  and  calm  the  next.  I  may  have  to  follow 
the  style  of  Letitia  in  her  well-known  note,  "  sometimes  we  pass 
Fummity,  and  sometimes  we  do  not."  Things  go  on  quietly,  nothing 
changed  but  my  half-sovereign.  I  had  to  buy  new  ribbons  for 
Letitia  to-day,  and  fear  that  I  shall  have  to  supply  the  children  with 
fresh  gloves. 

'  I  have  been  reading  about  our  poor  friend,  the  first  of  the 
Blacks,  to-day ;  and  it  appears  that  his  character  was  very  fairly  drawn 
by  Miss  Martineau.  I  was  glad  to  know  a  little  about  the  after 
doings  in  Hayti,  and  find  that  Dessalines— -that  fierce  fellow,  husband 
of  Theresa — was  made  first  Emperor,  and  killed  in  about  two  years. 
He  was  a  great  savage,  but  his  wife  an  amiable  Jady.    Then  came 


86  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

King  Henri  i. — our  friend  Christopher  the  Cook — who  was  king  at  the 
time  that  my  informant  wrote,  that  is  to  say,  in  1 8 19.  A  famous  king 
he  seems  to  t)e,  or  have  been,  with  a  good  palace,  standing  army  of 
25,000  men  kept  in  strict  discipHne,  a  hereditary  aristocracy— all  of 
the  colour  of  coal— and  ecclesiastical  establishment.  He  was  con- 
sidered in  person  very  much  like  King  George  ill. — barring  com- 
plexion, I  suppose — and,  in  short,  that  part  of  Hayti  which  owned 
him  for  king  seemed  in  a  very  flourishing  condition  in  1819. 

'  Do  you  remember  the  name  of  Thaurepas  (?),  the  blacky  General 
who  weakly  surrendered  his  post  to  the  French .?  What  do  you  think 
the  grateful  Monsieurs  did  to  him  .'*  Nailed  epaulettes  on  his  shoulders 
and  a  cocked  hat  on  his  head,  and  then  threw  him  with  his  wife 
and  children  into  the  sea !  Would  one  believe  such  things  of  men 
in  the  19th  century  ?  I  should  like  to  know  something  of  the  present 
state  of  Hayti,  and  whether  the  throne  is  filled  by  a  son  of  Henri  I., 
for  I  suppose  that  Christopher  is  hardly  living  still.  If  he  were, 
would  you  not  like  to  have  his  autograph  ? 

'  I  have  told  you  all  this  about  Hayti,  because  I  thought  that,  like 
myself,  you  would  be  pleased  to  know  what  really  became  of  the 
characters  in  Miss  Martineau's  Romance,  and  one  seldom  meets 
with  a  book  which  throws  any  light  upon  such  an  out-of-the-way 
subject.' 

'  Oct.  18,  1850. 

'  Dearest  Laura, — We  have  been  luxuriating  in  the  letters  from 
Paris.  .  .  .  All  things  look  so  bright  and  joyous  !  I  have  twice  sung 
"The  World  is  so  Bright"  to-day  con  ainore,  and  my  heart  is  so 
lightsome  that  I  could  dance.  I  do  not  think  that  I  have  once  seen 
precious  Father  dull  since  my  return.  He  desires  me  to  say  that  he 
cannot  quite  countenance  a  visit  to  Lebanon.     It  is  rather  too  far, 

and  Lord  Ellesmere  was  very  ill  on  his  way  thither ;  so  dear 

must  give  up  her  Blackbeard,  and  content  herself  with  Sir  Peter. 
Now  Mamma  is  reading  St.  George's  note.  Papa  is  smiling  away, 
— his  dear  lips  apart.     He  looks  so  nice  in  Clara's  beautiful  cap  ! 

'Henry  thinks  so  much  of  you,  dear.  He  says  that  you  are  a 
sweet  girl,  and  that  he  loves  you  extremely.  I  cannot  tell  you  all 
the  kind  things  he  says  of  you.  .  .  . 

'  We  are  such  a  comfortable  party,  and  our  loved  absent  ones  help 
to  make  us  more  so.  .  .  .  This  is  a  very  disconnected  sort  of  note,  a 
sort  of  patchwork,  for  my  ears  are  as  much  employed  as  my  hand, 
and  I  have  every  now  and  then  a  message  to  darn  in, — then,  O  my 
chilblains  !    But  I  am  determined  to  complain  of  nothing,  for  I  am 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  87 

so  overloaded  with  blessings.  Dearest  Parents  are  just  going 
out.  The  weather  is  delicious.  The  world  is  so  bright,  the  world 
is  so  fair  !  Yes,  even  now,  when  she  has  only  a  wreath  of  dahlias, 
and  decks  herself  in  yellow  like  the  sweet  little  Blossom  !  .  .  . 

'  I  should  like  to  think  that  our  dear  trio  are  enjoying  them- 
selves as  much  at  Paris  as  I  am  at  home.  I  hope  and  trust  that 
we  may  all  have  such  a  happy  winter  together,  when  "  Love's 
shining  circlet"  has  all  its  gems  complete  except  the  dear  Indian 
absentees.' 


This  was  written  in  the  autumn  following  Mr.  Tucker's 
dangerous  illness.  After  a  long  and  tedious  convalescence, 
his  health  had  steadily  improved  through  the  summer 
months,  and  during  the  autumn  he  seemed  to  be  almost 
himself  again, — able  to  walk  out  regularly,  able  to  read 
much  and  thoroughly  to  enjoy  being  read  to  by  his  wife 
and  daughters.  In  the  evenings  he  would  delight  in  their 
music,  varied  by  merry  talk  and  by  an  occasional  rubber 
of  whist. 

With  the  coming  of  winter  acute  neuralgic  pains  took 
possession  of  him ;  and  though  some  little  improvement 
was  seen  with  the  advent  of  spring,  it  was  not  permanent. 
In  the  end  of  May  1851  he  was  taken  to  Brighton  for  a 
few  days'  change ;  after  which  he  became  worse  and  then 
again  better.  Amid  these  fluctuations,  which  included  at 
times  very  severe  suffering,  his  manly  courage  and  patience 
were  never  known  to  fail. 

On  the  tenth  of  June  he  seemed  so  far  improved  as  to 
talk  of  going  next  day  to  the  India  House,  for  the 
Wednesday's  Council.  The  Doctor  strongly  opposed  this  ; 
and  Mr.  Tucker  went  instead  to  a  Flower-Show,  with  his 
daughters.  For  two  days  afterward  he  seemed  particularly 
well.  On  Friday  night  there  was  no  apparent  change  for 
the  worse ;  and  his  usual  tender  good-night  to  them  all 
had  in  it  no  shadow  of  approaching  calamity. 

But  the  end  was  at  hand.     Before  morning  sharp  illness 


88  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

had  seized  upon  him  ;  and  before  twelve  o'clock  he  had 
passed  away. 

It  was  a  heavy  blow  to  all  who  knew  him  ;  above  all  to 
his  wife  and  children.  He  had  been  the  very  life  of  the 
house,  the  very  spring  of  home-brightness.  Charlotte's 
little  niece,  Bella  Frances,  daughter  of  the  elder  brother, 
Henry  Carre  Tucker,  came  to  spend  her  first  English 
holidays  in  the  house,  not  long  after  Mr.  Tucker's  death, 
and  she  found  the  whole  family  'plunged  in  gloom,' — 
Charlotte  Tucker  being  exceedingly  sad  and  grave.  The 
only  one,  indeed,  of  the  whole  party  who  was  able  to 
speak  cheerfully  was  Laura.  It  is  probable  that  Laura 
had  at  that  date  a  dawning  outside  interest  in  her  life,  not 
possessed  by  any  of  the  others,  which  may  have  enabled 
her  to  bear  up  somewhat  better  than  they  could. 

Many  months  earlier,  after  the  sharp  illness  of  the 
preceding  year,  Mr.  Tucker  had  written  a  letter  to  all  his 
children,  thanking  them  for  their  'late  unwearied  and 
devoted  attentions '  to  him.  After  desiring  them  '  not  to 
give  way  to  strong  emotions,'  he  had  gone  on  to  say, — '  I 
have  reached  a  very  advanced  age,  and  must  be  prepared 
for  a  change.  Old  age  has  its  infirmities  and  suffering, 
and  a  prolonged  existence  is  not  to  be  desired.  Your 
care  should  now  be  to  comfort  and  console  your  beloved 
mother,  who  has  been  everything  to  me  and  everything 
to  you  all.  I  trust  that  she  will  not  leave  this  house,  in 
which  we  have  all  enjoyed  so  much  happiness  ;  and  I  feel 
assured  that  you  will  all  tenderly  watch  over  her,  and 
contribute  by  every  means  in  your  power  to  her  future 
comfort.' 

This  wish  was  fulfilled.  Mrs.  Tucker  never  did  leave 
No.  3  Upper  Portland  Place,  except  of  course  for 
necessary  change.  It  remained  her  home,  and  the 
home  of  her  daughters,  from  the  year  185 1,  when  her 
husband  died,  until  her  own  death  in  the  year  1 869. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  89 

How  much  of  life's  sunshine  had  been  swept  out  of 
Charlotte's  life  by  the  loss  of  her  Father,  it  is  perhaps 
impossible  for  any  one  to  estimate  who  did  not  personally 
know  Mr.  Tucker.  Not  that  all  her  sunshine  had 
departed !  Apart  from  her  own  inherent  elasticity  of 
spirit,  she  was  devotedly  attached  to  her  Mother ;  and  she 
had  still  the  tender  and  satisfying  companionship  of  Laura. 

That  while  deeply  saddened,  she  was  not  crushed,  is 
shown  by  the  following  letter  to  her  little  niece,  Bella  F. 
Tucker,  dated  August  9,  185 1  : — 

'  The  sun  has  been  shining  so  beautifully  lately,  and  the  reapers 
have  been  busy  in  the  fields.  It  is  a  sight  to  warm  the  heart,  to  see 
the  yellow  sheaves  covering  the  land,  and  we  should  bless  God  for 
an  abundant  harvest.  There  is  a  clover-field  near  us,  and  it  looks 
like  a  beautiful  carpet  of  lilac  and  green.  I  was  calculating  that 
there  must  be  more  than  two  million  blossoms  in  that  one  field  ;  and 
each  blossom  may  be  perhaps  the  home  of  many  insects.  .  .  .  Then 
what  is  that  field  compared  to  all  England,  or  England  to  Europe,  or 
Europe  to  the  whole  world  ?  Neither  your  little  head,  nor  the  wisest 
man's,  can  imagine  how  many  blossoms  and  how  many  insects  there 
are  on  this  great  globe, — it  makes  one  almost  giddy  to  think  of  it, — 
and  then  to  consider  that  all  the  world  itself  is  only  like  a  speck  in 
God's  Creation,  that  there  are  said  to  be  eighty  millions  of  fixed  stars, 
each  of  which  has  very  likely  worlds  moving  round  it.  And  God 
made  all.  How  very  great  and  wonderful  He  must  be  !  It  seems 
surprising  that  He  should  care  for  every  one  on  this  little  ball, — how 
much  more  astonishing  that  He  should  have  condescended  to  come 
and  live  upon  it,  to  have  appeared  as  a  feeble  Child  in  one  of  the 
worlds  that  He  had  made,  and  then  actually  to  die^  like  one  of  the 
creatures  that  He  had  formed  !  Is  not  God's  power  wonderful,  and 
His  love  more  wonderful  still  ? 

'  When  you  look  at  the  bright  blue  sky,  do  you  never  long  to  fly 
up  like  the  birds,— no,  much  higher  than  the  birds  can  fly,  to  your 
Home,  to  your  Father  which  is  in  Heaven  ?  I  hope  that  time  may 
come,  sweet  Bella,  but  now  is  the  time  to  prepare.  I  sometimes 
think  that  this  life  is  our  school-time.  We  are  now  to  learn  lessons 
of  faith  and  patience  and  love.  When  our  education  is  finished  we 
shall  be  allowed  to  go  Home  ;  and  Death  will  be  the  gentle  Messenger 


90  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

to  say, — "  Your  Heavenly  Father  sends  for  you  ;  come  and  join  your 
loved  ones  who  have  gone  before.  O  that  will  be  joyful,  when  we 
meet  to  part  no  more  ! " ' 

There  is  a  tone  of  quiet  sadness  running  through  the 
letter,  in  marked  contrast  with  those  joyous  epistles  to  her 
sister  Laura  quoted  earlier  in  this  chapter.  The  world 
could  never  again  be  to  her  '  so  bright,  so  fair ! '  as  in  the 
days  when  her  Father  was  still  upon  earth.  No  doubt  as 
time  went  on  the  buoyancy  of  her  temperament  reasserted 
itself ;  but  life  was  no  longer  unshadowed ;  and  other 
troubles  soon  followed. 

One  of  these  must  certainly  have  been  the  marriage  of 
her  sister  Laura,  though  no  letters  are  at  hand  to  show 
what  she  felt.  Mr.  Otho  Hamilton,  elder  brother  to  the, 
Rev.  Frederick  Hamilton,  who  had  married  Charlotte's 
eldest  sister,  sought  Laura's  hand  ;  and  he  was  accepted. 

Not  entirely  without  hesitation.  Perhaps  few  girls  can 
say,  or  ought  to  say,  '  Yes '  at  once,  without  time  for  con- 
sideration. When  the  offer  came,  Laura's  first  impulse 
was,  naturally,  to  go  to  her  Mother  for  advice  ;  her  second 
impulse  was  to  go  to  her  friend-sister.  It  is  not  hard  to 
realise  what  the  thought  must  have  been  to  Charlotte  of 
losing  this  dearly-loved  companion, — her  room-mate  and 
the  constant  sharer  of  her  thoughts  and  interests  from  very 
infancy ;  nor  is  it  difficult  to  believe  how  bravely  she 
would  put  aside  the  recollection  of  herself,  viewing  the 
question  from  Laura's  standpoint  alone.  It  must,  however, 
be  remembered  that  Charlotte  was  romantically  enthusiastic 
on  the  subject  of  others'  engagements,  and  was  through 
life  ardently  interested  in  the  marriages  of  her  friends. 
In  the  present  case  her  knowledge  of  how  highly  her 
Father  had  thought  of  Mr.  Hamilton  would  be  an 
additional  incentive  to  put  no  obstacle  in  the  way.  It 
seems  that  Laura's  hesitation  had  arisen,  not  from  any 
doubt  as  to  her  own  feelings,  but  simply  from  a  desire  to 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  91 

be  sure  of  her  duty.  The  engagement  took  place ;  and 
on  the  19th  of  October  1852,  Laura  Tucker  became  Mrs. 
Hamilton.  So  another  leaf  was  turned  in  the  story  of 
Charlotte's  life. 

And  now,  in  the  very  midst  of  these  changes  and  losses 
arose  a  new  interest.  Hitherto,  Charlotte  had  written  a 
good  deal,  but  she  had  never  published,  perhaps  had  never 
even  thought  of  publishing.  What  first  led  her  to  adopt 
the  style  of  fiction,  by  which  she  was  soon  to  become 
known,  it  is  possible  at  least  to  conjecture.  In  1850,  as 
we  have  seen,  she  wrote  another  of  her  merry  plays,  full  of 
fun  and  humour.  Now,  suddenly,  she  seems  to  have 
plunged  into  the  line  of  children's  stories,  having  each  a 
very  prominent  'purpose,' — her  earliest  being  The  Clareinont 
Tales.  It  may  be  that  the  shock  of  her  first  great  sorrow, 
the  death  of  Mr.  Tucker,  making  her  to  realise  intensely 
the  shortness  of  life  on  earth,  and  the  supreme  weight  of 
things  unseen,  had  the  effect  of  turning  her  mind  with  a 
new  energy  to  the  thought  of  doing  good  by  means  of 
her  pen.  It  may  be  also  that,  now  he  was  gone  for  whom 
and  with  whom  she  had  written  her  plays,  all  zest  in  that 
direction  was  gone  with  him,  and  the  gift  of  writing,  like 
a  river  dammed  up  in  one  direction  and  forced  to  turn 
elsewhere,  sought  naturally  a  fresh  outlet, — an  outlet  with 
which  there  should  be  no  overpoweringly  sad  associations. 
Moreover,  the  home-circle  was  no  longer  what  it  had  been. 
Two  of  the  sisters,  to  whom  she  had  read  her  plays,  were 
gone ;  and  with  the  changed  order  of  life  came  a  new 
order  of  writing. 

Exactly  when  she  began  or  finished  The  Claremont 
Tales  is  not  known.  With  her  usual  reserve  she  at  first 
said  nothing  about  the  completed  MS. — beyond,  at  all 
events,  reading  the  stories  to  the  children.  Probably  she 
felt  doubtful  about  her  own  venture ;  and  some  little  time 
seems  to  have  passed  before  she  showed  it  to  her  Mother. 


92  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Mrs.  Tucker  was  much  delighted  with  the  attempt,  said 
at  once  that  it  ought  to  be  published,  and  insisted  on 
action  being  taken. 

So,  on  November  19,  185 1,  the  MS.  was  sent  to  Messrs. 
W.  and  R.  Chambers,  with  the  accompanying  letter : — 

'  Sir, — It  has  for  some  time  been  my  anxious  desire  to  add  my 
mite  to  the  Treasury  of  useful  literature,  which  you  have  opened  to 
the  young  as  well  as  the  old. 

'  The  Tales  which  I  now  venture  to  offer  to  you  for  publication 
were  originally  composed  for  young  children  under  my  own  charge, 
and  were  listened  to  with  an  appearance  of  interest,  which  gives  me 
hopes  that  they  may  meet  with  no  unfavourable  reception  from  others 
of  the  same  tender  years. 

'  I  ask  for  no  earthly  remuneration  ;  my  position  in  life  renders 
me  independent  of  any  exertions  of  my  own  ;  I  pray  but  for  God's 
blessing  upon  my  attempts  to  instruct  His  lambs  in  the  things  which 
concern  their  everlasting  welfare  ;  and  deeply  gratified  should  I  feel, 
were  my  little  work  to  be  classed  among  the  numerous  valuable 
publications  which  you  have  already  given  to  the  world. 

'  The  Tales  might  be  printed  separately,  as  each  forms  a  complete 
story,  though  all  are  united  by  connecting  links.' 

The  date  is  given,  but  no  name  and  no  address ;  and 
a  letter  more  quaintly  stiff  and  unbusiness-like  can  surely 
never  have  won  a  Publisher's  smile.  To  return  the  MS. 
to  herself,  if  disapproved  of,  was  not  possible ;  and,  as  it 
happened.  The  Clareinont  Tales  did  not  belong  to  the  class 
of  publications  undertaken  by  Messrs.  Chambers.  Very 
kindly,  however,  they  passed  it  on  to  the  house  of  Messrs. 
Gall  and  Inglis  ;  and  by  them  the  little  book  was  brought 
out.  One  can  imagine  how  eagerly  Charlotte,  while  pre- 
serving her  strict  incognita,  must  have  watched  for  the 
possible  appearance  of  her  Tales,  and  how  delighted  she 
would  be  to  see  the  name  advertised.  When  this  occurred, 
she  wrote  again — 

'Mayi/^,  1853. 

'  A.  L.  O.  E.  presents  her  compliments  to  Messrs.  Gall  and  Inglis, 
and,  admiring  the  elegant  form  in  which  they  have  presented  The 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  93 

Clareinont  Tales  to  the  public,  is  happy  to  offer  to  them  for  pub- 
lication the  accompanying  volume  of  poems, — asking  no  further 
remuneration  than  20  copies  of  the  work,  when  printed,  for  gratuitous 
distribution.  A.  L.  O.  E.  proposes  sending  a  few  copies  of  her  poems 
to  the  principal  Reviews,  as  a  means  of  extending  their  circulation. 

'A.  L.  O.  E.  would  be  glad  to  know  whether  Messrs.  Gall  and 
Inglis  propose  adopting  her  suggestion  of  printing  some  or  all  of 
The  Claremont  Tales  in  a  very  cheap  form,  for  distribution  amongst 
poor  children,  Ragged  Schools,  etc. 

'  Any  communication  will  be  received  by  the  Authoress,  if  addressed 
to—"  Miss  Aloe  ;  care  of  Miss  Lanzun  ;  S ;  Middlesex." 

''  P.S. — Miss would  much  like  to  know  whether  The  Claremont 

Tales  were  first  placed  in  the  hands  of  Messrs.  Gall  and  Inglis  by 
Messrs.  Chambers,  to  whom  she  originally  sent  them ;  and  whether 
Messrs.  Gall  and  Inglis  have  any  professional  connection  with  those 
Publishers,  so  distinguished  in  the  field  of  literature.  Should  Messrs. 
Gall  and  Inglis  not  wish  themselves  to  undertake  the  publication  of 
a  volume  of  poetry,  they  are  at  perfect  liberty  to  submit  the  work 
to  Messrs.  Chambers.     An  early  answer  will  oblige.' 

Three  months  later  comes  another  letter,  still  further 
relaxing  her  secrecy,  and  still  on  the  subject  of  the 
'  volume  of  poems  ' : — 

^August  6,  1853. 

'  Miss  C.  M.  Tucker  presents  her  compliments  to  Mr.  Inglis,  and 
begs  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  this  morning  of  his  obliging  com- 
munication to  Miss  A.  L.  O.  E.,  which  no7n  de  guerre^  in  compliance 
with  his  wish,  and  in  reliance  on  his  promise  to  preserve  her 
incognita,  she  now  exchanges  for  her  own. 

'Miss  C.  M.  Tucker  is  now  at  the  seaside,  and  is  therefore  un- 
able personally  to   communicate  with   Mr.    Inglis.      She  requests, 

however,  that  he  will  continue  to  direct  any  letters  to  S ,  to  the 

care  of  Miss  Lanzun. 

'  Miss  C.  M.  Tucker  is  much  pleased  to  learn  that  her  little  work 
has  been  favourably  received  in  America.  She  will  be  very  happy 
to  write  such  an  addition  to  The  Fortress^  as  may  make  it  equal  in 
length  to  its  companion  tales. 

'As  Mr.  Inglis'  objection  to  publishing  The  White  Shroud,  etc., 
seems  only  to  rest  upon  the  shortness  of  the  poems.  Miss  C.  M. 
Tucker  would  have  no  objection  to  sending  a  larger  book  of  her 
poetry,  from  which  Mr.  Inglis  might  select  what  he  thought  likely 


94  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

to  please  the  public.  Miss  C.  M.  Tucker  has  written  an  Epic  on 
the  eventful  Life  of  St.  Paul,  and  a  variety  of  other  pieces.  Would 
Mr.  Inglis  wish  them  forwarded  to  Scotland,  or  to  his  present 
address  in  London?  Miss  C.  M.  Tucker  herself  selected  The 
White  Shroud^  as  she  thought  it  one  of  those  most  likely  to  be 
popular,  and  perhaps  most  calculated  to  be  useful.  The  name  might 
attract  readers,  who  would  not  glance  at  what  appeared  from  its 
title  to  be  exclusively  religious.  It  would  also  be  well  adapted  for 
illustration  ;  but  that  Miss  C.  M.  Tucker  leaves  entirely  to  the  taste 
and  judgment  of  Messrs.  Gall  and  Inglis,  only  suggesting  that 
perhaps  the  commencement  of  winter  might  be  a  favourable  time 
for  such  a  work  of  Fancy  to  make  its  appearance,  when  it  might 
take  its  place  among  the  elegant  little  volumes  designed  for  Christmas 
remembrances.' 

Others  were  disposed  to  take  a  different  view  as  to 
the  peculiar  attractiveness  of  such  a  name  as  The  White 
Shroud^  and  when  the  volume  was  published  it  came  out 
as  Glimpses  of  the  Unseen. 

A  first  interview  between  Charlotte  and  one  of  her 
Publishers,  recalled  by  some  of  the  family,  probably  took 
place  at  about  this  date,  or  not  very  long  afterwards. 
She  is  said  to  have  been  shy  on  seeing  him,  though  not 
commonly  supposed  to  suffer  from  shyness.  In  any  case 
it  is  to  be  hoped  that  few  Authors  are,  at  first  starting, 
so  absolutely  convinced  of  their  own  powers  as  not  to 
go  through  certain  twinges  of  bashfulness. 

One  copy  of  The  Clarernont  Tales  was  sent  out  to  her 
brother,  Mr.  St.  George  Tucker,  who  was  again  in  India, 
and  had  recently  gone  to  Azimgurh.  When  the  book 
arrived,  he  sat  up  reading  it  until  past  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning ;  no  small  compliment  to  a  young  Author.  He 
then  despatched  a  messenger  on  horseback  to  Benares, 
with  the  volume, — a  ride  of  sixty  miles, — that  his  brother, 
Mr.  Henry  Carre  Tucker,  might  with  all  speed  enjoy  the 
same  pleasure.  Charlotte,  hearing  this  through  her  Mother, 
was  not  a  little  gratified. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  95 

Thenceforth  Charlotte  went  steadily  in  for  Authorship. 
Volume  after  volume  flowed  from  her  fertile  pen ;  most 
of  them  for  children  ;  many  of  them  exceedingly  amusing  ; 
all  of  them  definitely  designed  to  teach  something.  One 
is  rather  disposed  to  fancy  that  in  the  writing  of  these 
books  there  may  have  been,  in  the  beginning,  something 
of  a  struggle.  Charlotte  was  by  nature  ambitious ;  and 
her  literary  gift  was  considerable ;  and  some  of  its  poten- 
tialities appear  to  have  been  sacrificed  to  her  ardent 
desire  for  usefulness.  Whether  she  ever  could  or  would 
have  made  her  mark  in  any  of  the  higher  walks  of 
literature  is  a  question  which  could  only  have  been 
decided  by  actual  experiment ;  but  at  least  she  must 
have  felt  it  to  lie  within  the  bounds  of  possibility.  Some 
people  may  think  that  her  desire  for  usefulness  was  a 
little  too  ardent  in  its  manifestation,  since  it  led  to  so 
extremely  didactic  a  mode  of  writing  as  that  of  many 
among  her  books.  No  one  can  deny  that  some  of  the 
said  volumes  do  contain  a  large  amount  of  direct  '  preach- 
ing ' ;  not  merely  of  life-lessons,  interwoven  with  the  story 
in  such  wise  that  the  one  could  not  be  read  and  the 
other  missed,  but  rather  of  little  sermons  so  alternating 
with  the  story  that  a  child  might  read  the  latter  and 
skip  the  former.  Probably,  most  children,  when  reading 
to  themselves,  did  follow  this  plan.  Directness  to  a  fault 
was,  however,  a  leading  characteristic  of  Charlotte  all 
through  life.  The  same  tendency, — many  would  say  in 
plain  terms,  the  same  mistake — is  apparent  in  the  later 
years  of  her  Indian  work,  in  the  mode  of  her  Zenana 
teaching. 

With  respect  to  her  writings,  nothing  is  more  impossible 
than  to  gauge  correctly  the  amount  of  comparative  good 
worked  in  any  age,  by  different  books  or  different  styles 
of  composition.  That  which  makes  the  most  stir,  that 
which  has  the  greatest  apparent  success,  is  by  no  means 


96  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

always  the  most  wide  in  its  influence.  Some  of  us 
may  be  inclined  to  think  that  A.  L.  O.  E.  might  have 
reached  a  larger  circle,  might  have  gained  a  more  ex- 
tensive influence,  if  she  had  less  anxiously  pressed  so 
very  much  didactic  talk  into  her  tales, — if  too  she  had 
more  studiously  cultivated  her  own  dramatic  instincts,  and 
had  more  closely  studied  human  nature.  All  this  we  are 
quite  at  liberty  to  believe.  For  the  question  as  to  'doing 
good '  through  a  book  does  not  rest  upon  the  amount  of 
religious  teaching  which  may  be  packed  into  a  given 
number  of  printed  pages,  but  rather  upon  the  force  with 
which  a  certain  lesson  is  presented,  with  or  without  many 
words.  There  is  no  especial  power  in  an  abundance  of 
words  ;  rather  the  reverse  ! 

But  the  main  gist  of  the  matter  as  regarded  Charlotte 
herself  lies  outside  all  these  questions.  It  is  found  in 
the  simple  fact  that  she  determinately  stamped  down 
her  own  personal  ambitions,  and  bent  her  powers  with  a 
most  single  heart  to  this  task  of '  doing  good ' ;  that  she 
resolutely  yielded  herself  and  her  gifts  to  the  Service  of 
her  Heavenly  Father,  desiring  only  that  His  Name  might 
be  honoured  in  what  she  undertook.  Whether  she  always 
carried  out  this  aim  in  the  wisest  manner  is  a  secondary 
consideration.  From  the  literary  and  artistic  point  of 
view,  one  may  say  that  she  undoubtedly  did  make  some 
mistakes.  From  the  standpoint  of  a  simple  desire  to  do 
good,  one  may  question  whether  she  could  not  have  done 
yet  more  good  by  a  different  style  of  writing.  But  with 
regard  to  the  purity  and  earnestness  of  her  desire,  with 
regard  to  the  putting  aside  of  personal  ambitions,  with 
regard  to  the  single-heartedness  of  her  aims,  there  can 
be  no  two  opinions.  And  He  who  looks  on  the  heart,  He 
who  gauges  our  actions  not  by  results  but  by  the  motives 
which  prompt  them, — He,  we  may  well  believe,  honoured 
His  servant  for  her  faithful  work  in  His  Service. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  97 

Nor  must  we  ignore  the  measure  of  marked  success 
which  she  certainly  had,  if  one  may  judge  from  the  speed 
with  which  her  books  came  out,  and  the  demand  which 
apparently  existed  for  them.  Even  in  her  most  didactic 
tales  there  are  keen  and  witty  touches,  and  droll  descrip- 
tions. For  '  teaching '  purposes  her  boys  may  sometimes 
converse  together  as  boys  never  do  converse  ;  but  none  the 
less  those  boys  are  real,  and  they  recur  in  after  years  to 
the  memory  as  only  living  people  or  vivid  creations  ever 
do  recur.  In  some  of  her  rather  higher  flights,  such  as 
Pride  and  his  Prisoners^  are  to  be  found  stirring  scenes, 
drawn  with  dramatic  power. 

One  thing  should  be  noted  :  the  curiously  allegorical  or 
symbolical  style  of  thought  which  was  natural  to  her. 

It  did  not  appear  in  the  girlish  dramatic  efforts, — unless 
in  the  direction  of  a  perpetual  play  upon  words, — but  in 
her  published  books  it  developed  speedily.  This  was 
remarkable  in  her  ;  not  because  of  any  peculiar  result  from 
it  in  England,  but  because  of  its  very  peculiar  adaptation 
to  Indian  needs.  One  may  almost  think  of  her  authorship 
in  England  as  mainly  a  long  preparation  for  her  Indian 
toil ;  the  continuous  practice  in  habits  of  imagery  and 
allegory,  by  no  means  especially  suited  to  our  Western 
minds,  gradually  fitting  her  to  deal  with  the  Oriental  mind, 
little  as  she  yet  dreamt  of  any  such  destination  for  herself 
All  these  years,  without  knowing  it,  she  was  waiting  for 
and  was  working  upward  to  *  the  Crown  of  her  Life,'  as  it 
may  be  termed  ;  those  eighteen  years  in  the  Panjab.  All 
these  years  she  was  being  prepared  and  made  ready,  till 
she  should  be  as  a  '  sharpened  instrument '  in  the  Hand  of 
her  Master,  fitted  for  the  work  which  He  would  give  her 
to  do. 

Among  the  many  volumes  published  during  the  first 
fifteen  or  twenty  years  of  authorship  were  the  following  : — 
The  Giant-Killer^  The  Roby  Family^  The  Young  Pilgrim^ 
G 


98  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

History  of  a  Needle^  and  Rambles  of  a  Raty  before  1858  ; 
Flora,  The  Mine,  Precepts  in  Practice,  Idols  in  the  Heart, 
and  Whispering  Unseen,  before  i860 ;  Pride  and  his 
Prisoners,  The  Shepherd  of  Bethlehem,  My  Neighbour  s 
Shoes,  War  and  Peace,  Light  in  the  Robber's  Cave,  and  The 
Silver  Casket,  before  1864.  A  trio  of  volumes  appeared  in 
succession,  the  first  of  which  she  wrote  at  her  Mother's 
suggestion, — Exiles  in  Babylon,  Rescued  from  Egypt,  and 
Triumph  of  Midian.  Another  trio,  coming  in  due  course, 
— Fairy  Know-a-Bit,  Parliament  in  the  Playroom,  and  The 
Crown  of  Success, — were  bright  little  books,  containing  a 
good  deal  of  useful  information.  Besides  these  were 
published  at  intervals  House  Beautiful,  Living  fewels.  Castle 
of  Carlmont,  Hebrew  Heroes,  Claudia,  Cyril  Ashley,  The 
Lady  of  Provence,  The  Wreath  of  Smoke,  and  very  many 
others. 

One  of  the  most  strongly  allegorical  of  her  earlier  works 
was  The  Giant-Killer ;  and  in  that  little  book  she  no  doubt 
made  free  use  of  her  own  experiences. 

It  is  easy  to  believe  that  she  must  have  had  many  a 
hard  battle  with  Giant  Sloth,  before  she  gained  the  habit 
of  always  rising  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  a  habit 
persevered  in  through  life.  Again,  one  of  her  eager  and 
impulsive  temperament  could  not  have  been  naturally  free 
from  a  clinging  to  her  own  way,  and  from  a  certain 
vigorous  self-seeking  ;  and  many  a  bitter  conflict  must  have 
been  gone  through,  before  friends  could,  with  an  all  but 
unanimous  voice,  speak  of  hers  as  a  peculiarly  unselfish 
character.  In  the  struggles  of  Fides  to  get  out  of  the  Pit 
of  Selfishness,  we  may  read  between  the  lines  of  Charlotte's 
girlish  battlings. 

Even  more,  in  the  fight  with  Giant  Pride  we  seem  to  see 
her  hardest  tussle  of  all,  and  the  mode  in  which  victory 
came  to  her.  Giant  Pride's  assumed  name  of  '  High 
Spirit,'  his  hatred  of  Meanness,  Gluttony,  Cowardice,  and 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  99 

Untruth,  are  all  an  echo  of  parts  of  herself  The  polishing 
of  the  darkened  gold  of  her  Will  she  had  long  known  in 
the  small  unavoidable  frictions  of  everyday  life ;  and  the 
plunging  of  that  Will  into  furnace-heat,  and  the  straight- 
ening of  its  crookedness  by  means  of  heavy  successive 
blows,  she  had  begun  to  know  in  the  death  of  her  dear 
Father,  and  would  soon  know  more  fully  through  other 
sorrows  coming  after.  But  many  more  than  three  blows 
were  needed  for  the  shapening  of  Charlotte  Tucker's  Will. 
She  may  have  dreamt  when  she  wrote  the  book  that  three 
would  be  enough,  and  that  the  King's  call  to  Fides  might 
in  her  case  be  soon  repeated.  She  little  knew  the  long 
years  of  toil  and  patience  which  stretched  far  ahead. 

A  tiny  glimpse  of  the  daily  fighting,  which  she  like  all 
others  had  to  go  through,  may  be  seen  in  the  succeeding 
letter,  written  to  her  sister,  Laura,  a  year  or  two  before  the 
death  of  old  Mr.  Tucker  : — 

'  I  obeyed  you  in  putting  your  note  into  the  fire,  after  twice  perusing 
it ;  but  it  seemed  a  shame  so  to  destroy  what  was  so  sweet.  How 
little  you  and  I  have  been  with  each  other  lately,  yet  I  do  not  think 
that  we  love  one  another  one  particle  the  less, —  I  think  that  I  can 
answer  for  myself  at  least.  May  God  prosper  your  humble  efforts,  my 
sweet  Laura.     I  enter  into  all  your  feelings.  .  .  . 

'  I  do  not  like  to  overload  dear  Bella  with  advice.  It  appears  almost 
presumptuous  from  a  younger  sister ;  but  I  threw  in  my  word  now 
and  then.  But  what  am  I  ?  .  .  .  I  fear  that  I  have  been  peevish  with 
to-day.    I  feel  discontented  with  myself,  and  need  your  prayers.' 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A.D.  1854-1857 

CRIMEA,   AND   THE   INDIAN   MUTINY 

In  the  year  1854  Mr.  St.  George  Tucker  again  came 
home  from  India  ;  and  in  the  autumn  he  took  his  Mother 
and  sisters  for  three  months  to  The  Mote,  an  old  country- 
house  about  six  miles  north  of  Tonbridge,  hoping  that  the 
change  would  do  good  to  Mrs.  Tucker's  health  and  spirits. 
Those  were  the  terrible  days  of  the  Crimean  War ;  and  in 
that  autumn  the  battles  of  Balaclava  and  Inkerman  were 
fought.  Several  letters  of  interest  belong  to  about  this 
period. 

TO   Miss   BELLA   F.  TUCKER.      1 853. 

'  I  have  found  out  a  much  better  hero  for  you  than  your  friend  Lord 
Marmion, — who,  by-the-bye,  had  he  lived  in  these  days,  would  have 
run  a  great  chance  of  being  transported  for  fourteen  years,  or 
imprisoned  for  one  with  hard  labour,  for  forgery.  Mere  courage  does 
not  make  a  hero.  .  .  .  When  I  was  about  as  old  as  you  are  now,  I 
had — besides  Montrose,  for  whom  I  have  a  great  regard  still — a  great 
hero,  a  pirate  !  About  as  respectable  a  man  perhaps  as  Lord 
Marmion,  and  I  was  so  fond  of  him,  that  I  remember  jumping  out  of 
bed  one  night,  when  one  of  my  sisters  laughed  at  him. 

'  But  I  have  grown  older,  dear,  and  have  seen  so  many  bubbles 
break  in  my  time  that  I  am  more  on  my  guard.  I  look  for  something 
more  solid  now.  If  you  are  allowed  to  read  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin^  or 
any  part  of  it,  pause  when  you  have  done,  and  compare  the  old  negro 
with  Lord  Marmion.  You  laugh  at  the  idea.  What  !— "the  falcon 
crest  and  morion," — "  the  scar  on  his  dark  brow  " — will  not  all  this 
100 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA.  TUCK  1^^ .  ^^  \  '\  i  ^ ;  i  ih\ 

throw  the  poor  ignorant  thick-lipped  hero  quite  into  the  shade  ?  Yes, 
— if  a  sparkling  bubble  is  more  glorious  than  a  diamond  shut  up  in  a 
black  case.  Time  touches  the  bubble,  and  it  breaks, — I  have  given 
up  my  pirate-hero, — but  the  diamond — never  mind  the  black  case  ! 
"  Uncle  Tom"  is  a  hero,  and  one  worthy  of  the  name.' 

TO  MRS   HAMILTON— (LAURA). 

'The  Mote,  Sept.  i,  1854. 

'  Your  and  your  dear  husband's  nice  sunshiny  notes  reached  me  this 
morning.  ...  I  believe  that  you  are  wise  not  to  come  here,  for  the 
roads  are  very  bad,  and  the  climate  not  very  bracing.  Sweet  Mother 
says  that  it  suits  her  very  well,  and  I  thrive  on  it  like  anything,  but 
not  every  one  might  be  the  better  for  "water,  water  every  where."  We 
have  four  pieces  of  water  close  by  us,  besides  the  moat  just  under  our 
windows.  The  Mote  nestles  so  curiously  in  a  hollow  of  the  hill,  that 
when  you  have  walked  a  few  hundred  yards  from  it,  and  naturally 
turn  round  to  look  at  the  noble  mansion  which  you  have  left, — it  is 
actually  non  inventus.  You  would  not  know  that  you  were  near  the 
Mote  at  all.  "What  has  become  of  our  great  house?  "  say  you.  It 
has  vanished  like  Aladdin's  fairy  palace. 

'  I  feel  sure  that  this  is  the  identical  old  place  that  Mrs.  D'Oyly 
took  us  to  see,  where  they  said  that  some  of  the  rooms  had  not 
been  opened  for  one  hundred  years.  This  suits  me  exactly.  As  the 
boys  say,  "  I  am  in  clover."  Damp  hurts  me  no  more  than  if  I  were 
a  water-wagtail  ;  but  the  same  might  not  be  the  case  with  you.  .  .  . 

'  What  a  good  thing  it  has  been  for  your  little  darling  being  at  so 
healthy  a  place  during  the  trying  time  of  teething.  I  shall  expect  to 
see  her  still  more  improved,  when  I  have  the  pleasure  of  kissing  her 
sweet  lips  again.  How  diverting  it  will  be  to  watch  her  when  she  first 
runs  alone  !  .  .  . 

'  Such  nice  letters  from  India  !  Dear  Henry  is  having  my  Tales 
translated  into  Hindustani,  for  the  poor  natives.  Oh,  pray,  my 
Laura,  that  a  blessing  may  go  with  them.  Dear  Robin  preaches  to 
upwards  of  a  hundred  blind,  and  bears  the  hot  weather  wonderfully 
well.' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

'The  Mote,  Sept.  12,  1854. 

'  Many  thanks  for  your  welcome  letter,  your  good  news,  and  your 
kind  invitation.     I  should  not  wonder  if  the  last  were  very  thankfully 


ros  ''■'  '/'.  '    'tUE  IJIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

accepted  some  time  next  month  ;  for  it  is  quite  uncertain  whether  the 

L s  will  let  us  remain  here  beyond  the  six  weeks,  and  almost 

quite  certain  that  No.  3  will  not  be  ready  for  us  then,  in  which  case 
we  had  better  scatter.  The  boys  indeed  talk  of  standing  a  siege  here, 
rather  than  give  the  place  up  ;  but  you  see  we  are  afraid  of  treachery 

in  the  camp,  having  so  many  of  the  L 's  servants.    Then  we  might 

have  difficulty  about  provisions,  for  we  should  all  grow  desperately 
thin  upon  the  fish  which  Charlie  catches.  Besides  which,  the  moat 
might  be  waded,  although  it  is  a  doubtful  point  whether  the  wader 
could  get  on  through  the  weeds  and  mud.  I  think,  all  things  con- 
sidered, that  we  had  better  not  stand  a  siege. 

'  My  heart  can  quite  re-echo  the  cheerful  tone  of  your  note,  love. 
I  do  indeed  feel  that  we  are  loaded  with  blessings.  I  enjoy  this  place 
exceedingly,  it  is  so  pretty ;  just  the  place  to  "  moon "  about  in. 
Don't  you  remember  Mrs.  D'Oyly  taking  us  to  see  it,  when  we  drove 
here  in  two  carriages,  and  you  were  with  the  sprightly,  and  I  with  the 
sedate  party  ?  I  feel  sure  that  this  was  the  identical  old  house.  My 
room  ought  to  be  haunted,  only  it  is  not.  It  is  such  a  pity  that  you 
have  not  the  fairy  carpet  to  come  here  without  fatigue.  But,  as  it  is, 
you  serve  as  a  magnet,  to  help  to  draw  me  back  to  Middlesex  without 
regret. 

'  Kind  love  to  dear  Mr.  Hamilton,  and  twenty  kisses  to  the  Princess 
of  babies.  I  can  well  imagine  the  pleasure  that  she  is  to  you — a 
large  lump  of  sugar  in  your  cup  I ' 

TO  MISS  BELLA   F.   TUCKER. 

'■Dec.  12,  1854. 

'  We  went  to  St.  James'  Park  to-day,  to  see  Her  Majesty  on  her 
way  to  open  Parliament.  I  had  an  excellent  view  of  our  poor  dear 
Queen  ;  and  the  sight  of  her  mournful  subdued  countenance,  as  she 
bowed  graciously  to  her  people,  but  without  the  shadow  of  a  smile, 
quite  touched  my  heart.  This  war  weighs  very  heavily  upon  her  ; 
and  I  am  anxious  to  know  whether  she  was  able  to  get  through  her 
speech  without  breaking  down  altogether.  She  looked  to-day  as 
though  it  would  have  taken  less  to  make  her  weep  than  laugh. 

'  How  England  is  exerting  herself  to  send  comforts  to  her  brave 
sons  in  the  Crimea  !  A  lady  was  here  to-day  who,  having  seen  that 
books  were  thought  desirable  presents  to  the  Army,  made  up  a  box 
of  them,  which  was  to  go  to  a  Mr.  S.  who  had  offered  to  receive  them. 
But  when  her  intended  gift  was  known, — "  O  pray  do  not  send  any 
more  books  ! "    was  the  poor  receiver's  cry.      "  We  have   seventy 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  103 

thousand  volumes  ! "  and  they  did  not  know  how  such  a  tremendous 
library  was  to  be  forwarded.  In  the  lint  department,  parcels  came 
in  at  the  rate  of  two  hundred  a  day  !     Good-bye.' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

'Jan.  13,  1855. 

'  It  is  singular  in  how  many  ways  last  year  I  seemed  to  be  taught 
a  lesson  of  patience.  I  was  disappointed  over  and  over  and  over 
again.  In  one  matter  in  which  I  was  greatly  interested,  I  was  so  at 
least  five  times  ;  but  before  the  close  of  the  year  I  had  cause  to  say 
with  much  pleasure, — "  I  am  glad  that  I  was  disappointed."  Another 
time  I  had  a  very  heavy  heart  from  a  different  source  of  disappoint- 
ment ;  and  some  months  later  I  was  grieved,  even,  I  am  half 
ashamed  to  say,  to  tears  ;  and  yet  before  December  was  out  I  was 
actually  glad  of  both  these  disappointments,  as  well  as  the  five  others ; 
and  a  good  appeared  to  spring  from  the  evil.  Now,  if  I  am  inclined 
to  be  impatient, — and  very  impatient  I  am  by  nature, — I  try  to 
remember  my  experience,  and  really  to  get  the  valuable  lesson  by 
heart.  I  think  it  a  good  plan  at  the  end  of  a  year  to  review  the 
whole,  to  try  and  find  out  what  especial  lesson  has  been  set  one  to 
learn  in  it.  I  found  it  to  be  praise  one  year ;  last  year  patience.  I 
know  not  what  it  will  be  this  year.  I  hope  that — but  no,  I  will  not 
write  what  I  intended.  Whatever  is,  is  best.  We  have  not  to  choose 
our  tasks,  but  to  learn  them.' 

TO  MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'Ju7te  15,  1855, 

'  What  news  have  I  to  give  you  ?  We  have  had  a  nice  note  from 
dear  Henry  to-day,  saying  nothing  about  health,  except  that  Robin  is 
well.  St.  G.  and  I  have  just  come  from  a  loiter  at  the  Botanical 
Gardens,  which  showed  us  that  we  need  be  under  no  great  concern, 
were  hemp  and  flax  exterminated  from  the  vegetable  world,  and 
silkworms  to  leave  off  being  spinsters,  as  we  could  dress  cheaply  and 
well  on  plantain  fibre,  have  capital  paper  and  excellent  ropes,  etc' 

In  the  August  of  1855  she  had  the  pleasure  of  going 
with  her  brother,  Mr.  St.  George  Tucker,  to  the  great 
French  Exhibition  at  Paris.  This  was  the  celebrated 
occasion  of  the  Queen's  visit  to  Napoleon,  after  the  close 
of    the    Crimean    War ;    and   Paris  was  thronged.      So 


I04  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

full  was  the  place  that  rooms  in  Paris  itself  were  not  to  be 
had,  and  they  went  to  an  hotel  in  Versailles,  occupying 
apartments  which  had  once  been  occupied  by  Louis 
Napoleon.  Charlotte's  warlike  enthusiasm  showed  itself 
in  the  fact  that  she  was  willing  to  pay  twenty-five 
francs  apiece  for  seats  at  the  Champs  de  Mars,  where  they 
might  witness  the  review  of  45,000  French  troops.  When 
Her  Majesty  had  quitted  Paris,  it  became  possible  to 
obtain  rooms  at  the  Hotel  Bristol. 

From  Versailles  she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  on  the 
2 1  St  of  August : — 

*  Dearest  Wifey,i — You  wished  for  a  letter  from  France,  so  here 
is  one  ;  but  if  you  expect  a  description  of  what  I  have  seen,  I  really 
cannot  undertake  to  give  you  even  a  precis.  Paris  surpasses  my 
expectations.  All  in  its  gala  dress  as  it  is  now,  swarming  with 
people,  crowded  with  soldiers,  gay  with  fluttering  flags  and  triumphal 
arches, — it  is  really  a  sight  in  itself.  The  grand  Exposition  of  pictures 
is  splendid  ;  it  is  only  too  large.  I  was  amused  at  it  by  a  lady  coming 
up  to  me,  and  politely  requesting  me  to  inform  her  who  Ophelia  was. 
An  old  French  lady,  looking  at  a  picture  of  the  burial  of  Harold, 
and,  I  suppose,  feeling  that  the  subject  might  be  painful  to  me 
as  a  Saxon,  politely  assured  me  of  her  regret  at  that  monarch's 
death  !     "  Let  bygones  be  bygones,"  say  I. 

'  Most  of  the  French  foot-soldiers  are  very  little  fellows,  compared 
to  some  of  our  troops  ;  but  amongst  the  Cavalry  are  very  fine  tall 
men.  The  Zouaves  are  very  heathenish-looking  warriors.  They 
dress  something  like  Turks,  with  all  about  their  throats  so  perfectly 
bare  that  they  quite  invite  you  to  cut  their  heads  off. 

'St.  G.  and  I  so  enjoyed  this  exquisite  evening  in  the  stately 
gardens  !  A  fine  military  band  was  performing,  the  people  were 
happily  listening,  little  children  skipping  about,  the  glorious  sunset 
tints  illuminating  a  palace  fit  for  the  "  grand  Monarch." 

'  We  have  seen  our  Sovereign  Lady  three  times,  which  was  being  in 
great  luck.  I  am  rather  tired  of  writing,  so  will  only  add  kindest  love, 
and  beg  you  to  believe  me  your  ever  attached,  C.  M.  Tucker. 

'/*.5.— I  told  a  fat  funny  little  French  baba  to-day  that  I  had  a 
niece  younger  than  herself,  and  asked  her  if  she  would  not  like  to  see 
her.     The  answer  was  unsatisfactory.' 

1  A  pet  name  for  her  sister. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  T05 

The  Crimean  War  was  ended  ;  and  two  years  later  came 
the  outbreak  of  the  Indian  Mutiny,  with  its  awful  carnage, 
its  heaps  of  slain,  its  tortured  women  and  children,  its 
heroic  determination,  its  dauntless  courage.  Then  was 
seen  a  Continent,  lost  apparently  in  one  day,  won  back  to 
the  British  Crown  by  mere  handfuls  of  indomitable  men 
facing  armed  myriads.  Such  a  tale  had  never  been  told 
before. 

If  Charlotte's  patriotism  had  been  stirred  by  the  Crimean 
struggle,  this  came  nearer  to  her  yet !  She  had  five 
brothers,  all  in  India,  all  more  or  less  in  daily  peril.  Mr. 
Henry  Carre  Tucker  was  Commissioner  at  Benares ;  Mr. 
St.  George  Tucker  was  at  Mirzapore  ;  Mr.  William  Tucker 
was  in  a  less  acutely  unsafe  position ;  Mr.  Charlton 
Tucker,  after  seeing  his  Colonel  shot  down,  was  for  weeks 
in  hiding.  All  these  escaped.  But  her  early  companion, 
Robert, — the  father  of  her  '  Robins,' — was  among  the 
slain  ;  and  the  three  children,  already  long  half-orphaned, 
became  now  wholly  orphaned. 

Robert  Tucker's  remarkable  powers,  and  his  successes 
at  Haileybury,  have  been  earlier  spoken  about.  Natur- 
ally of  a  serious  and  stern  disposition,  though  not  without 
lighter  traits,  he  had  been  a  good  deal  saddened  by 
troubles,  which  no  doubt  resulted  in  the  more  complete 
dedication  of  himself  and  all  that  he  possessed  to  the 
Service  of  his  Divine  Master.  A  short  sketch  of  his  life, 
written  by  his  sister  Charlotte,  and  published  by  the 
S.P.C.K.,  tells  of  his  work  at  Futteypore,  where  for  many 
years  he  was  Judge. 

About  four  years  before  the  Mutiny  he  had  written 
home  about  the  'extraordinary  success'  which  was  at- 
tending his  Christian  school,  established  and  kept  going 
by  himself.  On  Sundays  he  was  in  the  habit  of  regularly 
addressing  a  collected  crowd  of  Natives ;  literally  '  the 
poor,  the  maimed,  the  halt,  the  blind ' ;  and  he  did  not 


io6  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

teach  them  only,  but  also  ministered  liberally  to  their 
bodily  needs. 

In  her  little  sketch  Charlotte  says  of  him, — '  Careless  of 
his  own  comfort,  restricting  his  personal  expenses  to  a  very 
narrow  compass,  he  gave  to  the  Missionary  cause  at  the 
rate  of  forty  pounds  monthly,  and  one  year  even  more ' ; 
adding  that  with  'shrinking  from  ostentation'  he  had 
never  given  his  name  on  these  occasions.  And  again — 
*  It  was  his  deep  and  abiding  sense  of  the  debt  which  he 
owed  to  his  Saviour,  which  made  the  Judge  devote  not 
only  his  substance  but  his  heart  and  his  soul  to  the  Lord. 
How  deep  was  the  gratitude  which  he  expressed  in  these 
words — "  If  every  hair  upon  my  head  were  a  life,  it  would 
be  too  little  to  sacrifice  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ !  " ' 

A  clue  to  many  things  in  Charlotte's  own  later  life  may 
be  perhaps  found  here.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
story  of  her  brother's  self-denying  life  and  tragical  death 
made  a  profound  impression  upon  her  mind.  His  example, 
long  after,  was  closely  copied  by  this  sister,  when  she  too 
'  restricted  her  personal  expenses  to  a  very  narrow  com- 
pass,' precisely  as  he  had  done,  and  with  the  same  object, 
that  she  might  have  the  more  to  give  away.  Also  his 
energy  in  teaching  was  reflected  by  her  own  burning 
desire,  in  old  age,  to  speak  on  all  occasions  to  the  Natives 
of  their  deepest  needs,  and  never  to  miss  an  opportunity 
of  trying  to  lead  some  poor  Hindu  or  Muhammadan  to 
Christ,  always  with  the  vivid  sense  upon  her,  when  she 
met  man  or  woman,  that  the  call  to  herself  might  come 
before  they  could  meet  again,  and  so  a  second  opportunity 
might  never  recur.  Another  eighteen  years  had,  however, 
yet  to  elapse  before  she  would  go  out  to  India,  to  follow  in 
his  steps,  and  to  render  to  Hindustan  a  loving  return  for 
this  *  year  of  horrors.' 

In  June  1857,  like  a  thunderclap,  not  indeed  utterly 
unforeseen  but  practically  unexpected  by  the  majority  of 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  107 

Englishmen,  came  the  fearful  outbreak  ;  and  for  a  while  it 
did  really  almost  seem  that  the  British  Raj  in  India  was 
at  an  end.  But  those  who  thought  so  were  soon  to  be 
undeceived. 

When  first  the  storm  broke,  Robert  Tucker  did  not 
expect  to  be  himself  one  of  its  earlier  victims.  His  brother, 
Mr.  St.  George  Tucker,  says, — *  Robert  was  in  high  spirits 
when  the  Mutiny  broke  out.  He  wrote  to  me  that  he  had 
seen  a  magnificent  horse,  and  that  if  he  could  buy  him,  he 
could  ride  from  Futteypore  to  Delhi,  and  soon  finish  the 
war.  Robert  was  the  Judge,  and  Sherer  was  the  Magis- 
trate. Sherer  decided  that  all  the  Europeans  must  leave 
Futteypore  and  fly  to  Banda.  Robert  refused  to  leave 
Futteypore,  and  said  that  his  duty  required  him  to  protect 
the  Natives.    The  rest  of  the  Europeans  went  off  to  Banda.' 

Many  Native  Christians  fled  also, — among  others  a 
Native  Catechist,  Gopi  Nath.  He  was  taken  by  Muham- 
madans,  imprisoned  and  cruelly  treated ;  and  he  it  was 
whose  sinking  courage  was  revived  by  the  almost  dying 
words  of  the  English  boy-officer,  Arthur  Cheek,  the 
'  Martyr  of  Allahabad.' 

But  with  the  spirit  of  a  soldier,  Robert  Tucker,  the 
intrepid  Judge  of  Futteypore,  remained  at  his  post,  the 
only  European  among  countless  Natives,  bent  still  on  doing 
his  duty. 

The  night  preceding  the  tenth  of  June  he  passed  at  his 
Cutcherry  or  Office  ;  and  in  the  early  morning  news  was 
brought  that  his  own  house  had  been  set  on  fire.  He  then 
tried  to  collect  some  of  the  landholders,  to  protect  the 
Natives  in  the  town,  and  their  houses ;  but  not  all  his 
efforts  could  prevent  the  burning  of  the  latter.  His  next 
step  was  to  ride  off  to  the  Jail,  in  the  hope  of  securing  the 
prisoners ;  but  he  was  too  late,  the  prisoners  having  been 
already  set  at  liberty.  Mr.  Tucker  fearlessly  reprimanded 
the  Jail-Guard ;  whereupon  the  Guard,  belonging  to  a  bad 


io8  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Cawnpore  regiment,  opened  fire.  Though  every  shot 
missed,  Mr.  Tucker  must  then  have  seen  that  all  was  up. 
Everything  was  in  confusion ;  the  Native  officers  would 
not  support  him  ;  and  he  stood  absolutely  alone. 

He  rode  to  the  Cutcherry,  no  man  daring  to  intercept 
him,  and  took  up  his  position  on  the  top ;  and  for  hours 
he  remained,  fearless  and  calm,  awaiting  his  death.  The 
day  was  intensely  hot,  causing  him  to  suffer  terribly  from 
thirst ;  and  one  of  his  horsekeepers  at  length  brought  him 
some  milk, — a  deed  of  mercy,  which  shows  that  one  man 
at  least  was  not  devoid  of  gratitude. 

'There  he  remained  'during  that  fearful  day,'  wrote 
Charlotte  Tucker.  '  There,  as  evening  was  closing  in,  he 
made  his  last  lion-like  stand,  when  the  fanatic  Musselmans, 
bearing  a  green  flag,  the  emblem  of  their  faith,  came  in  a 
fierce  crowd  to  attack  him.'  How  many  he  shot  as  they 
advanced  is  not  certain  ;  some  say  twenty,  or  even  thirty ; 
but  at  length  one  of  his  assailants  shot  him  in  the  head, 
and  the  moment  he  fell,  they  took  courage  to  rush  up  the 
stairs  and  to  finish  their  work. 

For  Robert  Tucker  himself,  cut  off  though  he  was  in  the 
very  prime  of  life,  there  could  be  no  regrets,  except  on  the 
score  of  all  that  he  might  have  done,  had  he  lived.  No 
man  could  be  more  ready  than  he  was  to  go.  But  the  blow 
fell  heavily  on  those  who  loved  him  ;  and  though  for  nine 
years  he  had  not  seen  his  children,  whereby  the  sorrow  to 
them  was  softened,  yet  the  loss  to  their  future  could  not  but 
be  great. 

'  So  he  fell,'  wrote  one  who  had  escaped  ;  *  and  in  his  fall 
the  constant  and  fervent  prayer  of  his  latter  days  was 
answered,  for  he  fell  at  the  post  of  duty.  All  who  knew 
him  well  mourn  in  him  the  loss  of  a  true  and  noble  friend, 
generous  even  to  prodigality,  highly  talented,  a  thorough 
gentleman,  and  an  upright  judge.' 

Mention  of  this   event   was   made  at  the  time  in  the 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  109 

Journal  Letter  of  Viscountess  Canning,^  worth  quoting  in 
addition  to  the  above. 

' .  .  .  The  story  of  Futteypore  is  a  strange  one.  The  whole  country 
round  was  gone,  and  there  was  a  large  Sepoy  guard  in  the  treasury, 
and  every  reason  to  believe  they  would  rise,  so  all  the  Europeans 
took  to  boats,  and  went  away  to  safe  stations  down  the  river,  and  I 
think  to  Banda.  Only  Mr.  Tucker,  the  magistrate,  would  not  stir, 
and  remained  with  fifty  Sepoys  and  the  treasury.  He  was  son  to  the 
late  Director,  Sir  George  Tucker,^  and  was  one  of  the  four  brothers 
whose  names  we  hear  constantly,  and  he  was  as  brave  as  a  lion. 
He  had  a  deputy-magistrate— a  Mohammedan— in  a  high  position, 
treated  as  a  gentleman,  and  in  as  high  a  place  as  a  native  could 
occupy,  next  to  himself.  To  this  man  had  been  given  a  body  of 
mounted  police,  and  he  undertook  to  keep  the  country  clear  between 
the  great  trunk  road  and  the  river  for  some  distance.  He  did  it 
admirably,  and  took  delight  in  it,  and  sent  in  detailed  reports  up  to 
the  last.  But  when  he  heard  of  some  more  places  being  gone,  he 
suddenly  returned  to  the  treasury,  to  which  his  position  gave  him 
access,  dismissed  the  fifty  Sepoys  with  a  thousand  rupees  apiece,  and 
then  attacked  Mr.  Tucker  with  all  his  police  force.  Mr.  Tucker  was 
killed,  after  defending  himself  till  he  had  killed  with  his  own  hand, 
some  say  sixteen,  some  twenty  men.  I  suppose  he  had  a  whole 
battery  of  revolvers,  and  so  kept  his  assailants  at  bay.' 

Though  Robert  was  gone,  other  brothers  of  Charlotte 
Tucker  were  still  in  hourly  danger ;  and  the  pressure  of 
anxiety  went  on  for  months,  as  shown  by  letters  of  the 
time. 

TO  MISS   B.   F.   TUCKER. 

'  Sept%  1857. 
'  I  need  not  say  how  I  long  for  tidings  from  India.    Most  especially 
do   I    desire  news   of  Havelock's   precious  little  army.     Upon   its 
success,  humanly  speaking,  may  hang  the  safety  of  all  our  beloved 
ones  in  India.' 

TO  MRS.    HAMILTON. 

'5^//.  19,  1857. 
'  We  are  longing  for  our  letters,  but  I  do  not  think  we  shall  get 
them  till  Tuesday.     Dearest  Mother  tries  not  to  think  more  of  India 
^  Two  Noble  Lives^  vol.  ii.  p.  220. 
2  Mr.  Tucker.     He  was  never  knighted. 


no  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

than  she  can  help,  and  has,  I  am  glad  to  say,  given  up  reading  the 
papers,  so  we  only  give  her  the  good  part  of  the  news  verbally.  I 
could  not  endure  to  be  kept  in  the  dark  myself.  I  go  every  day  to 
fetch  the  papers.  I  half  live  on  them,  and  would  far  rather  go  without 
a  meal  than  not  see  them.  .  .  .  We  heard  from  poor  dear  Mrs.  Thorn- 
hill  to-day.  She  hopes  that  Henry  and  his  wife  are  in  Lucknow.  Such 
a  hope  is  not  worth  much,  one  would  think.' 

TO   MISS   B,    F.   TUCKER. 

'Sept.  21,  1857. 

'  God  be  with  our  brave  and  beloved  ones  !  My  heart  feels  very 
low — worse  than  before  the  letters  arrived.  We  hide  from  dear  Grand- 
mamma that  Mirzapore  is  threatened.      She  only  knows  that  the 

troops  are  there ;  not  why  they  have  been  sent.    N W has  sent 

his  dear  wife  and  children  to  Calcutta.  He  feels  so  desolate  without 
them,  but  takes  the  separation  as  a  lesson  from  his  Merciful  Father  to 
set  his  affections  more  on  things  above.  .  .  .  Does  not  your  heart 
sicken  for  Lucknow  ? ' 

All  through  England  hearts  were  'sickening  for  Lucknow,' 
at  this  time.  But  the  Cawnpore-like  catastrophe,  dreaded 
for  Lucknow,  did  not  come.  The  rescuing  party  mercifully 
arrived  in  time.  As  months  went  by,  the  Mutiny  was 
stamped  out  from  end  to  end  of  India ;  and  no  second 
Tucker  was  added  to  the  roll  of  England's  martyrs  there. 

Just  before  the  outbreak  Mr.  Henry  Carre  Tucker  seems 
to  have  requested  that  some  copies  of  his  sister's  books 
might  be  sent  out  to  him  for  distribution :  and  an 
interesting  letter  was  written  by  her  on  the  subject  to 
Messrs.  Gall  and  Inglis. 

'July  17,  1857. 

'Sir, — I  am  glad  to  hear  that  the  box  is  likely  soon  to  be  on  its  way 
to  my  dear  brother.  We  have  been  in  great  anxiety  on  account  of 
him  and  his  family,  as  Benares,  the  station  of  which  he  is  the  head, 
with  a  population  of  180,000,  is  one  of  the  most  wicked  places  in 
India,  a  "  holy  city,"  a  stronghold  of  fanaticism.  My  brother  has  taken 
a  bolder  part  in  upholding  Missions,  and  spreading  religious  literature, 
than  almost  any  one  else  in  the  country ;  therefore,  if  Benares  had 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  in 

followed  the  example  of  Delhi,  the  terrible  event  might  have  been 
attributed  to  his  excess  of  zeal. 

'The  Almighty,  to  whom  my  brother  attributes  the  glory,  has 
hitherto  watched  over  Benares  in  so  marked  a  manner,  that  it 
remained  quiet  in  the  midst  of  disturbances  ;  and  my  young  niece  has 
bravely  ridden  through  it  by  her  father's  side,  giving  confidence  to 
the  timid  by  her  fearlessness.  .  .  .  But  a  few  lines  in  the  telegraph, 
read  aloud  in  Parliament,  informs  us  that  the  troops  in  Benares  had 
risen  at  last,  and  been  driven  out  of  the  city  with  great  loss.  I 
await  the  next  mail  with  intense  anxiety.  I  have  five  brothers  in 
India.' 

It  is  interesting  to  know  that  Mr.  Henry  Carre  Tucker 
devoted  himself  a  year  later  to  the  task  of  helping 
forward  in  every  possible  way  Missionary  work  in  India, 
as  a  species  of  *  Christian  revenge '  for  the  death  of  Robert 
and  the  sufferings  of  his  countrymen.  He  took  a  leading 
part  in  starting  the  *  Christian  Literature  Society  for  India,' 
and  was  for  a  while  himself  its  Honorary  Secretary. 


CHAPTER    IX 

A.D.  1857-1865 
LIFE'S  EARLY  AFTERNOON 

One-half  of  the  life  of  Charlotte  Tucker  was  now  over  ;  a 
quiet  and  uneventful  life  thus  far.  If  we  like,  we  may 
mentally  divide  her  story  into  four  quarters,  each  about 
eighteen  years  in  length,  corresponding  to  Early  Morning, 
Noontide,  Afternoon,  and  Evening.  The  first  eighteen 
years  of  her  Early  Morning  had  been,  perhaps,  as  bright 
and  cloudless  as  the  existence  of  any  girl  could  well  be. 
In  the  succeeding  Noontide  hours  she  had  known  still 
much  of  brightness,  though  they  included  her  first  great 
sorrow,  and  ended  with  her  second.  Also,  in  the  course  of 
that  Noontide  she  had  entered  upon  her  career  of  author- 
ship, with  all  its  hopes  and  aims,  its  hard  work  and  its 
delights.  Probably  none  who  have  not  experienced  it  for 
themselves  can  quite  understand  the  fascinations  of 
authorship. 

Now  she  had  passed  her  Noontide,  and  was  entering  on 
the  hours  of  early  Afternoon.  Eighteen  years  of  that 
Afternoon  still  lay  between  the  dark  days  of  the  Indian 
Mutiny  and  her  own  going  out  to  India,  for  the  Evening 
of  her  Life, — the  fourth  and  last  eighteen  years,  which  were 
to  be  the  fullest  and  the  busiest  of  all  her  busy  days. 

We  have  first  to  do  with  the  earlier  portion  of  the  Third 

Period  ;  a  period  including  much  work,  many  interests,  and 

some  deep  griefs.     Between  1857  and  1866,  however,  lay  a 
112 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  113 

quiet  stretch  of  everyday  life,  distinguished  by  no  rocks  or 
rapids.     The  river  flowed  on  peacefully  for  a  while. 

Life  at  No.  3  continued  much  as  it  had  been  in  years 
past.  Many  friends  were  in  and  out,  and  were  always 
cordially  welcomed.  Mrs.  Tucker,  since  her  husband's 
death,  had  made  one  difference,  in  that  she  no  longer  gave 
dinner-parties  ;  but  luncheons  were  in  full  swing,  to  any 
extent ;  and  Charlotte's  powers  of  entertaining  were  still  in 
abundant  requisition. 

No  better  place  can  well  be  found  than  this  for  part 
of  a  letter  to  A.  L.  O.  E.'s  nephew,— the  Rev.  W.  F.  T. 
Hamilton,  son  of  her  favourite  sister, — from  Sir  Francis 
Outram,  son  of  General  Sir  James  Outram,  of  celebrated 
memory. 

^Jtme  25,  1894. 

'  My  recollections  of  No.  3  Portland  Place  and  of  its  typically  kind 
inmates  carry  me  back  just  half  a  century.  But  they  are  very  clear, 
though,  I  regret  to  add,  only  of  a  general  and  intangible  character. 

'  Mr.  Tucker  I  recall  with  grave  respect,  unmingled  with  awe,  as 
evidently  one  of  the  wisest  and  most  influential  of  my  Parents'  proved 
friends.  Mrs.  Tucker  retains  an  honoured  place  in  memories  of  these 
and  later  days  as  the  kindest  and  most  liberal  of  "  old  aunts," — so  she 
desired  me  to  designate  her,  and  at  once  adopted  me  into  her  very 
large  circle  of  favoured  nephews  and  nieces, — the  inexhaustible 
source  of  varied  goodnesses,  especially  such  as  were  of  the  most 
approved  edible  nature. 

'  Their  sons  I  cannot  recall,  except  as  the  genial  and  trusty  friends 
of  later  life.  But  the  five  daughters  of  the  house  none  of  us  who  en- 
joyed their  unselfish  kindness  at  all  stages  of  our  youth  can  ever  forget. 

'Of  the  two  who  ere  long  became  successively  "Miss  Tucker," 
however,  you  would  alone  wish  me  to  speak.  They  cannot  be  dis- 
sociated in  the  memory  of  the  generations  of  young  people,  whose 
privilege  it  was  to  be  entertained  and  gratified  by  their  unwearied 
attention  throughout  many  a  long  holiday  afternoon  and  evening, 
while  stuffed  by  Mrs.  Tucker  ad  libitum  with  all  the  best  things  of  the 
season. 

'  As  we  grew  older,  we  not  only  more  fully  understood  the  excep- 
tional boundlessness  of  old-fashioned  hospitality  and  kindness  which 
H 


114  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

that  house  and  household  exemplified  thoroughly,  but  we  came  to 
understand  somewhat  of  the  heart-source  whence  issued  that  truest 
manifestation,  of  "  everyday  religion,"  which  evidences  itself  in  an 
absolutely  unselfish  consecration, — consistent,  unreserved,  and  essen- 
tially practical,— for  everyday  wear,  and  not  only  under  "  stimulating 
environments."  Such  was  the  life's  lesson  which  our  association  with 
these  two  now  ageing  sisters  suggested  to  us. 

'  Miss  Charlotte  had,  as  you  know,  much  of  the  Romantic  in  her 
composition.  ...  In  person  she  was  always  slight,  and  somewhat 
fragile-looking.  Indeed,  both  she  and  Miss  Fanny  gave  one  the 
impression  of  being  too  incessantly  though  quietly  busy  about 
everything  that  promoted  the  happiness  of  other  people,  to  ever 
become  stout,  or  to  cultivate  dress  and  appearances,  beyond  what 
was  consistent  with  the  aims  and  duties  and  requirements  of  a  fully 
occupied  home-life. 

'  Mrs.  Tucker  could  not  quite  keep  pace  with  the  new-fashioned 
unconventionalities  of  "  young-lady  work "  in  London ;  and  one 
of  the  object-sermons,  which  most  impressed  me  in  my  College 
days,  was  the  beautiful  self-restraint  which  these  two  sisters — no 
longer  young — imposed  upon  themselves,  in  deference  to  their  aged 
Mother's  wishes,  in  regard  to  that  outside  work  which  inclination,  or 
one  might  say  conviction,  as  well  as  opportunity  and  qualifications, 
impelled  them  to  participate  in. 

'  Still  the  unbounded  hospitality  of  the  "  open  house "  in  Portland 
Place  went  on ;  and  still  they  were  content  to  devote  their  time, 
talents,  and  energies  to  successive  generations  of  juveniles  and  elder 
guests,  without  a  murmur.' 

One  can  well  believe  that  the  self-restraint  had  to  be 
severe  in  Charlotte's  case,  with  her  abounding  energies, 
and  her  eager  desires  for  usefulness.  But  she  patiently- 
abided  her  time ;  and  she  did  not  wait  in  vain.  These 
were  years  of  quiet  preparation. 

In  appearance  at  this  time  Charlotte  was,  as  ever,  tall 
and  thin, — decidedly  tall,  her  height  being  five  feet  six 
inches,  or  two  inches  over  her  Mother's  height,  and  only 
one  inch  short  of  her  Father's.  She  had  still  as  of  old 
a  peculiarly  elastic  and  springy  mode  of  walking;  and 
while   possessing   no   pretensions   to   actual   good    looks, 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  115 

there  was  much  charm  of  manner,  together  with  great 
animation.  Still,  as  ever,  she  threw  herself  energetically 
into  the  task  of  entertaining  others,  no  matter  whether 
those  *  others '  were  young  or  old,  attractive  or  uninterest- 
ing. This  at  present  was  a  main  duty  of  her  life,  and 
she  never  neglected  or  slurred  it.  Still,  as  ever,  she  was 
guided  and  restrained  by  her  Mother's  wishes,  yielding 
her  own  desires  when  the  two  wills,  or  the  two  judgments, 
happened  to  lie  in  opposite  directions. 

Although  not  really  fond  of  work,  Charlotte  was  a 
beautiful  knitter.  She  would  make  most  elaborate  anti- 
macassars, of  delicate  lace-like  patterns,  invented  by  her 
own  busy  brain  ;  and  while  working  thus  she  was  able 
to  read  Shakespeare  aloud.  Her  Father  had  loved  Shake- 
speare, and  Charlotte  had  early  caught  the  infection  of  this 
love,  never  afterwards  to  lose  it. 

Visiting  in  the  Marylebone  Workhouse  went  on 
steadily ;  she  and  Fanny  usually  going  together,  until 
Fanny's  health  began  to  fail,  which  was  probably  not 
until  after  1864. 

Fanny  was  par  excellence  the  gentle  sister ;  very  sweet, 
very  unselfish ;  always  the  one  who  would  silently  take 
the  most  uncomfortable  chair  in  the  room  ;  always  the 
one  to  put  others  forward,  yet  in  so  quiet  and  unobtrusive 
a  fashion  that  the  fact  was  often  not  remarked  until 
afterwards.  Of  Charlotte  it  has  been  said  by  one  who 
knew  her  intimately, — '  I  wonder  whether  before  the 
year  1850  any  one  has  described  her  as  "gentle."'  The 
gentleness,  which  was  with  Fanny  a  natural  characteristic, 
had  to  be  a  slow  after-growth  with  the  more  vehement 
and  resolute  younger  sister.  Many  a  sharp  blow  upon  the 
golden  staff  of  her  Will  was  needful  for  this  result. 

As  an  instance  of  Fanny's  peculiar  gentleness,  it  is  told 
that  one  Sunday,  when  she  saw  a  man  trying  to  sell 
things,  she  went  up  and  remonstrated  with  him,  speaking 


ii6  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

very  seriously,  but  in  so  mild  and  courteous  a  manner, 
so  entirely  as  she  would  have  spoken  to  one  who  was 
socially  on  her  own  level,  that  he  was  utterly  unable  to 
take  offence.  She  was  also  very  generous,  giving  liberally 
to  the  poor  out  of  her  limited  dress-allowance,  in  earlier 
girlish  days.  This  same  generosity  was  a  marked  feature 
in  the  character  of  Charlotte ;  perhaps  especially  in  later 
years. 

Fanny  was  of  middle  height,  and  thin,  with  dark  eyes  ; 
very  neat  and  orderly  in  her  ways,  wherein  she  was  the 
opposite  of  Charlotte,  who  was  famed  for  untidiness  in 
her  arrangements.  Charlotte  was,  however,  methodical 
in  plans  of  action,  and  in  literary  work  ;  and  later  in  life 
she  seems  to  have  struggled  hard  after  habits  of  greater 
tidiness,  as  a  matter  of  principle.  But  in  middle  life  she 
could  still  speak  of  her  drawers  as — at  least  sometimes — 
supplying  a  succession  of '  surprises.' 

Her  '■  little  Robins '  were  now  growing  up,  an  ever- 
increasing  care  and  interest  to  her  loving  heart ;  and  the 
devotion  which  she  felt  for  Letitia  was  of  a  most  intense 
nature.  The  two  boys  were  of  course  much  away  at 
school  ;  but  Letitia  was  always  with  her, — until  the  year 
1865,  when  it  was  decided  that  she  should  go  out  to  her 
uncle,  Mr.  St.  George  Tucker,  in  India.  Moreover,  many 
other  little  nieces  and  nephews  had  a  warm  place  in  the 
life  of '  Aunt  Char,'  none  more  so  than  the  children  of  her 
especial  sister-friend,  one  of  whom  was  her  own  god- 
child. 

Side  by  side  with  innumerable  home-duties  and  home- 
pleasures  went  on  the  continual  writing  of  little  books  for 
children  ;  one  or  two  at  least  appearing  every  year.  The 
amount  of  work  in  one  such  volume  is  not  heavy ;  but 
A.  L.  O.  E.'s  other  calls  were  many.  And  she  was  not 
writing  for  a  livelihood,  or  even  for  the  increased  comforts, 
whether   of    herself  or   of  others   dependent   upon   her ; 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  117 

therefore  it  could  not  be  placed  in  the  front  rank  of 
home-duties.  The  Tuckers  were  sufficiently  well  off; 
and  Charlotte  is  believed  to  have  devoted  most  or  all  of 
the  proceeds  of  her  pen  to  charitable  purposes. 

To  secure  a  certain  amount  of  leisure  for  work,  she 
accustomed  herself  to  habits  of  early  rising.  Her  Mother 
had  always  strongly  objected  to  late  hours,  making  the 
rule  for  her  girls, — '  If  you  can,  always  hear  eleven  o'clock 
strike  in  bed.'  Charlotte  is  said  to  have  made  her  a 
definite  promise  never  to  write  books  late  at  night ;  and 
through  life  this  promise  was  most  scrupulously  adhered 
to. 

Since  she  was  debarred  from  late  hours,  and  since  in 
those  days  she  could  never  be  sure  of  her  time  through 
the  day,  early  morning  was  all  that  remained  to  her. 
Punctually,  therefore,  at  six  o'clock  she  got  up, — like 
her  hero.  Fides,  conquering  Giant  Sloth, — and  thus  made 
sure  of  at  least  an  hour's  writing  before  breakfast.  In 
winter  months,  when  others  had  fires  at  night  in  their 
bedrooms,  Charlotte  denied  herself  the  luxury,  that  she 
might  have  it  in  the  morning  instead  for  her  work.  The 
fire  was  laid  over-night,  and  she  lighted  it  herself  when 
she  arose ;  long  before  the  maid  came  to  call  her. 

Later  in  the  day  she  wrote  if  she  could  and  when  she 
could.  No  doubt  also  she  found  many  an  opportunity 
for  thinking  over  her  stories,  and  planning  what  should 
come  next.  She  usually  had  the  tale  clear  in  her  mind 
before  putting  pen  to  paper ;  so  that  no  time  was  lost 
when  an  hour  for  actual  work  could  be  secured. 

A  sitting-room  behind  the  dining-room  of  No.  3,  called 
'the  parlour,'  was  by  common  consent  known  as  her 
room.  Here  she  would  sit  and  compose  her  books ;  but 
she  made  of  it  no  hermitage.  Here  she  would  be  invaded 
by  nieces,  nephews,  children,  anybody  who  wanted  a 
word  with  '  Aunt  Char.'     And  she  was  ready  always  for 


ii8  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

such  interruptions.  Writing  was  with  her,  as  we  have 
seen,  not  the  main  business  of  life,  but  merely  an  adjunct, 
— an  additional  means  of  usefulness.  Since  she  had 
secured  the  one  early  uninterrupted  hour,  other  hours 
might  take  their  chance,  and  anybody's  business  might 
come  before  her  own  business.  With  all  these  breaks, 
and  in  spite  of  them,  she  yet  managed  in  the  course  of 
years  to  accomplish  a  long  list  of  children's  books. 

One  of  the  said  nieces.  Miss  Annie  Tucker,  writes 
respecting  certain  visits  that  she  paid  to  her  grandmother, 
Mrs.  Tucker,  at  Portland  Place  : — 

'In  each  of  these  visits  it  was  always  my  beloved  Aunt  Charlotte 
who  entertained  me, — if  I  may  use  the  word, — though  I  was  a  mere 
child ;  and  she  did  it  just  as  if  I  were  a  grown-up  person.  I  could 
never  see  that  she  took  less  pains  to  interest  me  than  she  did  to 
please  the  many  grown-up  people  who  called.  She  usually  enter- 
tained us  in  her  room  behind  the  dining-room,  so  that  my  grand- 
mother should  not  be  wearied  too  much. 

'  How  often  have  I  gone  in  and  out  of  her  room,  with  a  freedom 
which  now  almost  surprises  me  !  but  she  never  seemed  interrupted 
by  my  entrance.  I  have  seen  her  put  down  her  pen,  though  she  was 
evidently  preparing  MS.  for  the  press,  and  attend  to  any  little  thing  I 
wanted  to  say,  without  one  exclamation  of  vexation  or  annoyance,  or 
a  resigned-resignation  look,  that  some  people  put  on  on  such 
occasions,  at  her  literary  work  being  put  a  stop  to.  And  yet  I  am 
sure  that      was  not  because  she  did  not  mind  being  interrupted.' 

It  is  not  for  a  moment  to  be  implied  that  all  hard  toilers 
in  life  are  bound  to  follow  precisely  here  the  example  of 
A.  L.  O.  E.  Circumstances  differ  in  different  cases.  Often 
the  work  itself  is  of  supreme  importance  ;  the  interruptions 
are  unnecessary  and  undeserving  of  attention.  If  every- 
body worked  as  Charlotte  Tucker  worked  at  that  particular 
period,  the  amount  accomplished  would  in  some  cases  be 
very  small,  and  in  other  cases,  where  undivided  attention 
is  essential,  the  result  would  be  absolute  failure.  In 
her   case   the  literary  work  was  of  a  simple  description, 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  119 

and  the  home-calls  appeared  to  be  distinctly  first  in 
importance.  But  the  spirit  which  she  showed  was  well 
worthy  of  imitation.  Many,  whose  favourite  occupations 
are,  to  say  the  least,  no  whit  more  pressing  than  were  her 
books,  are  exceedingly  tenacious  of  their  time,  and 
exceedingly  impatient  of  interruptions ;  and  with  too 
many  the  home-calls  come  second  to  all  personal  interests. 
It  was. far  otherwise  with  Charlotte  Tucker.  Whatever 
had  to  be  done,  she  was  ready  to  do  it, — not  one  iota 
more  ready  to  write  her  books,  or  to  visit  in  the  Work- 
house, than  to  teach  the  '  Robins,'  to  amuse  visitors,  old  or 
young,  to  entertain  guests  at  dinner  or  luncheon,  to  take 
her  part  in  a  family  'glee,'  to  join  in  merry  games,  to 
conduct  friends  on  sightseeing  expeditions.  No  matter 
what  it  might  be,  she  did  it  willingly,  throwing  her  whole 
energy  into  the  matter  in  hand,  always  ^t  everybody's 
service,  never  allowing  herself  to  appear  worried  or  bored. 

Despite  her  somewhat  fragile  appearance,  and  an 
appetite  commonly  small,  there  must  have  been  a  mar- 
vellous amount  of  underlying  strength, — of  the  *  w^iriness ' 
which  often  belongs  to  delicate-looking  people.  If  tired, 
she  seldom  confessed  the  fact,  and  never  made  a  fuss 
about  it.  Her  extraordinary  vitality  and  mental  vigour 
carried  her  through  what  would  have  entirely  laid  by 
many  another  in  her  place. 

The  following  extracts  are  from  letters  ranging  between 
1 86 1  and  the  beginning  of  1866  : — 

TO   MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'Nov.  6,  1 86 1. 

'  Will  you  kindly  tell  my  Letitia  that  I  have  put  up  her  paint-box, 
to  be  sent  to  Somerset  House,  as  I  dare  say  that  your  dear  husband 
will  kindly  take  charge  of  the  little  parcel.  .  .  . 

'  The  weather  here  has  not  been  very  choice.  We  had  candles  at 
luncheon  yesterday.  We  make  ourselves  very  happy,  however,  by 
vigorous  reading.    In  the  evening  we  discourse  with  Queen  Elizabeth, 


I20  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Leicester,  Paul  Buys,  and  Olden  Barneveldt,  etc. ;  in  the  morning  we 
go  out  hunting  with  M.  Chaillu,  plunging  amongst  hippopotami  and 
crocodiles,  demolishing  big  black  serpents,  or  perhaps  capturing  a 
baby-gorilla,  more  troublesome  than  dear  Edgy  himself. 

'We  are  all  just  now  in  a  state  of  indignation  about  your  pork  ! 
Don't  suppose  that  it  is  any  fault  in  the  pork ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is 
acknowledged  to  be  the  most  "refined"  pork  ever  known;  and 
Mother  says  that  if  she  shut  her  eyes,  she  would  not  know  that  she 
was  not  eating  chicken  !  !  We  had  a  beautiful  roast  of  it  one  day 
at  luncheon ;  and  Mother  cut  off  a  choice  bit,  to  be  reserved  for 
our  table,  cold,  while  the  servants  were  indulged  with  the  rest  of 
that  joint.  To-day  Mother  asked  for  our  reserved  bit.  Would  you 
believe  it? — those  dreadfully  greedy  servants  had  eaten  our  bit  as 
well  as  their  own,  though  they  had  legs  of  mutton  on  Friday  and 
Saturday,  and  a  22  lb.  joint  of  roastbeef  on  Sunday  !  Do  you  marvel 
at  our  indignation  ?  Mother  means  to  call  some  one  to  account.  She 
puts  all  the  pathos  of  the  question  upon  me.  Miss  Charlotte  to  be 
disappointed  of  her  reserved  bit  of  pork  !  I  can  hardly  keep  my 
countenance,  but  of  course  must  not  disclaim  my  interest  in  the 
question.  These  greedy  servants  must  be  kept  in  order.  It  is  not 
for  nothing  that  we  read  of  valiant  encounters  with  alligators  and 
hippopotami.' 

TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

'Dec.  3,  1862. 

^  Dearest  Laura, — We  at  last  opened  our  piano,  and  your  song 
has  been  thoroughly  examined.  The  result  is  that  some  parts  are  much 
liked.  Clara  was  so  much  pleased  with  the  verse  about  the  Rose, 
that  after  singing  it  over  for  Mother's  benefit  she  sang  it  three  times 
over  for  her  own.  The  words  are  not  worthy  of  the  music  ;  it  ought 
to  be  sacred  ;  and  I  intend  to  copy  it  out  in  my  own  little  music- 
book  as  a  hymn,  so  that  its  interest  will  not  die  away  with  that  of  the 
bridal.-^  The  part  next  best  liked  is  the  Shamrock  verse  ;  and  if  I 
might  venture  a  suggestion,  I  think  that  the  whole  of  the  "  We  hail 
thee"  might  be  set  to  it ;  only  the  "glittering"  accompaniment  must 
be  confined  to  the  Shamrock  verse.  I  think  people  often  like  the 
repetition  of  one  air  over  and  over,  far  better  than  a  great  variety. 

The  air  is  flowing  and  attractive,  and  there  is  no  harm  in  its 
brevity.  The  first  part,  "  We  hail  thee,"  has  a  transition,  which  we 
fear  that  the  rules  of  thorough-bass  might  not  permit ;  and  the 

1  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  121 

Thistle  is  hardly  equal  to  either  the  Shamrock  or  the  Rose,— of 
which,  you  see,  I  would  make  a  separate  song  and  hymn.  If  you 
would  write  out  the  song  to  the  music  of  the  former,  I  do  not  see  why 
we  should  not  try  to  get  it  accepted  by  a  publisher.  I  hope  that  you 
will  excuse  my  thus  venturing  to  criticise  your  song  and  so  unmerci- 
fully to  cut  it  short. 

'  I  will  give  on  the  next  page  the  words  which  I  propose  putting — 
for  my  own  use — to  the  hymn  part.  Very  little  alteration  will  make 
them  go  very  well  to  the  air,  for  I  have  tried  them  ;  and  the  repetition 
of  the  last  words,  which  your  sweet  music  requires,  suits  lines  the 
whole  emphasis  of  which  falls  on  the  closing  words  ;  at  least  I  fancy 


The  lines  following  are  given  here,  not  exactly  as  they 
appeared  in  the  letter,  but  in  the  corrected  and  im- 
proved form  which  afterwards  appeared  in  print  with  the 
music : — 

*The  Lord  He  is  my  strength  and  stay. 
When  sorrow's  cup  o'erflows  the  brim  ; 
It  sweetens  all  if  we  can  say, 
"This  is  from  Him!" 
All  comfort,  comfort,  flows  from  Him. 

'  When  humbly  labouring  for  my  Lord, 
Faint  grows  the  heart  and  weak  the  limb. 
What  strength  and  joy  are  in  the  words, 
"This  is  for  Him!" 
'Tis  sweet  to  spend  our  strength  for  Him. 

'  I  hope  for  ever  to  abide 
Where  dwell  the  radiant  Seraphim  ; 
Delivered,  pardoned,  glorified ; 
But  'tis  through  Him  ! 
All  light  and  glory  flow  from  Him. 

'Then  welcome  be  the  hour  of  death. 
When  Nature's  lamp  burns  low  and  dim. 
If  I  can  cry  with  dying  breath, 
"I  go  to  Him!" 
For  Life  Eternal  flows  from  Him.' 


122  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

TO   MISS   BELLA   F.   TUCKER. 

'Feb.  II,  1862. 
*  I  have  read  your  touching  account  of  your  most  sorely  afflicted 
friend  with  great  interest.  I  visit  the  Imbecile  Ward/  and  I  fear 
that  she  must  be  in  the  Insane  Ward ;  but  I  will  be  sure  to  make 
inquiries,  and  perhaps  I  may  find  that  I  can  follow  her  thither.  I 
am  not  timid.  Very  very  glad  should  1  be  to  impart  any  comfort  in 
such  a  case  of  awful  distress  ;  but  I  fear  that  she  may  not  understand 
even  sympathy.' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

'Feb.  26,  1862. 
'  1  went  to  our  afflicted  friend.  ...  I  talked  to  her  as  comfortingly 
as  I  could,  and  told  her  that  I  thought  this  sad  trial  might  be  sent 
that  she  might  be  like  Christiana,  walking  on  a  Heavenward  path, 
with  all  her  children  with  her.  I  was  glad  to  draw  forth  one  or  two 
tears,  for  tearless  anguish  is  the  most  terrible.  She  said  that  she 
prayed  the  Lord  to  take  her.  I  did  not  think  that  a  good  prayer,  but 
suggested  that  she  should  ask  the  Lord  to  come  to  her,  as  to  the 
disciples  in  the  storm.  She  has  promised  to  repeat  the  two  very 
little  prayers,  "  Lord,  come  to  me  "  ;  and  "  Lord,  make  my  children 
Thine,  for  Jesus'  sake."  It  was  touching  to  hear  her  repeating  softly, 
again  and  again, — "  Make  me  Thine  !  make  me  Thine  ! "  ' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

'March  25,  1862. 

'Though  still  very  low  to-day,  Mrs. did  not  seem  to  me  to  be 

inaccessible  to  religious  comfort.  I  fancied  that  there  was  a  little 
lightening  of  the  darkness.  ...  I  do  not  know  of  anything  that  she 
wants.  I  have  supplied  her  with  working  materials.  Perhaps  a  little 
book  with  pictures  in  it  is  as  good  as  anything,  as  amusing  without 
fatiguing  the  mind.  ...  I  know  the  beautiful  large  texts  that  you 
allude  to  ;  but  I  do  not  know  where  they  could  well  be  fixed  in 
the  Insane  Ward.     They  are  more,  I  think,  for  the  bedridden.' 

TO  MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'Gresford,  Sept.  13,  1863. 
'  I  thought  of  you  as  I  stood  on  the  soft  green  slope  down  to  the 
water,  and  looked  on  the  bright  little  stream,  with  its  white  foam 

I  Of  the  Marylebone  Workhouse. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  123 

sparkling  in  the  sunlight.  How  much  of  its  beauty  it  owes  to  the 
pebbles  that  fret  it ;  and  how  much  of  its  rapidity  to  the  fall  in  its 
course.  But  in  our  lives,  how  we — at  least  I — shrink  from  the 
pebbles  !  How  we  would  fain  have  all  glassy  smooth, — though 
Nature  itself  teaches  us  that  then  it  would  become  stagnant.  The 
"sea  of  glass"  is  for  another  world.  .  .  . 

'  I  sometimes  think  that  consoling  is  one  of  the  most  delightful 
employments  given  to  God's  servants.  It  is  pleasanter  than  teaching  ; 
far  far  more  so  than  reproving  others,  or  struggling  against  evilj  or 

examining  our  own  hearts.     You  were  a  comfort  to  poor  dear , 

and  I  dare  say  that  the  sense  of  being  so  lightened  your  own  trial  of 

parting.     I  would  give  a  great  deal  to  have  your  influence  with ; 

but  the  Almighty  has  not  been  pleased  to  grant  me  this.  Perhaps 
He  will  some  day.' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

''July  29,  1864. 

'  I  want  particularly  to  know  whether,  in  case  I  see  my  way  to 
gaining  money  by  it  for  some  religious  or  charitable  purpose,  you 
will  make  me  a  present  of  that  little  bit  of  your  welcome  to  the 
Princess  which  I  have  turned  into  a  hymn.  Also  whether  you  would 
mind  Mrs.  Hamilton's  name  being  published  on  it.  The  hymn  has 
been  ringing  so  in  my  ears,  and  with  such  a  soothing  effect  when 
I  did  not  feel  particularly  cheerful,  that  I  should  like  others  to  have 
the  same  comfort.  I  have  made  inquiries  as  to  the  cost  of  printing 
and  publishing  it.  .  .  .  Being  very  short,  I  do  not  think  that  much 
could  be  asked  ;  and  this  is  perhaps  the  gem  of  your  music.  I  do 
not  want  it  to  be  done  at  your  expense,  but  at  my  own,  and  to  manage 
everything  after  my  own  fashion, — but  I  cannot  plunder  you  either 
of  your  music  or  your  name  without  your  leave.  .  .  . 

'  Dear  Fanny  is  better,  though  still  prisoner  to  her  room.  She  has 
had  a  sharp  attack  of  fever  ;  and  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  difficult  to 
throw  off  the  cough.  The  rest  of  our  party  are  well,  as  I  trust  that 
I  may  find  you  and  your  dear  circle.' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

^  Aug.  I,  1864. 

'Your  and  your  dear  husband's  sweet  notes  quite  added  to  the 

cheerfulness  of  our  breakfast-table.      Even  Fanny  did  not  appear 

knocked  down  by  your  tender  scolding.     She,  for  the  first  time  since 

Tuesday,  came  to  breakfast.     She  still  needs  great  care,  for  the  cold 


124  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

was  on  her  chest,  and  even  speaking  is  liable  to  make  her  cough. 
Mother  highly  approves  of  your  plan  of  coming  to  town.  She  desires 
me  to  say  that  she  knows  that  her  face  is  before  you,  as  yours  is  before 
her.  Dear  Fanny  will  probably  not  start  for  Brighton  till  Wednesday 
week,  so  she  will  have  the  pleasure  of  welcoming  you,  and  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  try  not  to  let  her  be  loquacious.  .  .  . 

'  Many  thanks  for  your  kind  present  of  the  music.  I  am  going  to 
have  it  printed  by  converted  Jews,  and  the  entire  profits  devoted  to 
the  Society  for  the  Conversion  of  Jews  ;  so  that  it  will  be  a  little 
offering  from  us  both  to  one  of  the  holiest  of  causes.  ...  I  take  the 
expense  of  the  edition  of  500  copies.  They  are  to  be  sold  for  is. 
apiece  ;  so  if  all  are  sold  there  is  a  contribution  of  ;^25  clear  to  the 
Society.  ...  I  am  rather  hopeful  that  the  whole  edition  will  go  off 
before  Christmas  ;  for  one  shilling  is  not  a  formidable  sum,  especially 
when  people  can  get  a  new  song  and  help  a  good  cause  at  the  same 
time.  ...  I  take  great  pleasure  in  this  little  piece  of  business.  I 
have  been  quite  haunted  by  the  music.  I  am  ordering  the  plate  to 
be  preserved,  in  case  of  a  Second  Edition  being  required.  So  Mrs. 
Hamilton  is  going  to  come  out  as  a  Composer  ! ' 

TO   MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON.^ 

'■March  31,  1865. 
'  My  dear  God-daughter, — I  shall  like  to  think  of  you  particularly 
to-morrow,  because  it  is  the  Anniversary  of  the  day  when  your  dear 
parents  in  church  solemnly  presented  their  precious  little  first-born 
babe  to  God  ;  and  I  stood  there  to  answer  for  her.  Dear  Leila,  may 
each  return  of  that  day  find  you  drawing  nearer  and  nearer  to  Him 
who  said,  "  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  Me."  If  we  could 
only  feel  in  our  hearts  that  He  really  does  love  us,  and  that  He 
deigns  to  care  whether  we  love  Him,  what  a  motive  it  would  be  for 
doing  everything  as  in  His  sight  !  We  are  too  apt  to  think  of  our 
Saviour  as  very  far  off,  and  with  so  many  to  care  for  that  we  are 
almost  beneath  His  notice.  But  this  is  wrong.  The  Sun  shines  and 
sparkles  on  every  dewdrop  in  a  field,  as  much  as  if  it  were  the  only 
dewdrop  in  the  world.  He  does  not  pass  it  over,  because  it  is  little  ; 
he  makes  it  beautiful  in  his  light,  and  then  draws  it  up  towards 
himself.  ...  I  wish  that  I  could  come  and  pay  you  a  visit ;  but  I  do 
not  see  how  I  am  to  leave  Grandmamma  as  long  as  dear  Aunt  Fanny 
is  an  invalid.     I  seem  wanted  at  home.' 

It  may  have  been  somewhere  about  this  year,  or  not 

1  Daughter  of  A.  L.  O.  E.'s  sister  Laura. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  125 

very  long  before  it,  that  Charlotte  wrote  the  following 
pretty  and  graceful  lines  : — 

'  Each  silver  thread  that  glitters  in  the  hair, 
Is  like  a  wayside  landmark,— planted  there 
To  show  Earth's  pilgrims,  as  they  onward  wend, 
How  nearly  they  approach  their  journey's  end  ! ' 


CHAPTER    X 

A.D.  I 864-1 866 

A  HEAVY  SHADOW 

The  afternoon  shadows  were  again  to  darken  around 
Charlotte  Tucker ;  and  one  blow  after  another  had  to  fall. 
Her  mother  was  growing  old,  and  in  no  long  time  would 
be  called  away.  The  health  of  her  gentle  sister,  Fanny, 
had  begun  to  fail,  never  to  be  entirely  restored.  But  a 
yet  sharper  sorrow,  because  utterly  unlooked  for,  was  to 
come  before  the  loss  of  either  her  mother  or  her  sister,  like 
a  flash  of  lightning  into  the  midst  of  clear  sunshine. 

Of  all  the  many  whom  she  dearly  loved,  none  perhaps 
lay  closer  to  her  heart  than  Letitia,  the  only  daughter  of 
her  brother  Robert, — the  youngest  of  '  the  Robins.'  The 
two  boys  were  now  out  in  the  world,  one  in  India,  one  at 
sea ;  but  Letitia  hitherto  had  never  left  her,  except  for 
visits  here  or  there  among  relatives  and  friends.  One  who 
knew  them  both  well  describes  the  contrast  between  aunt 
and  niece  at  this  period, — Charlotte  Tucker,  '  so  upright 
and  animated,  very  thin,  fair,  with  auburn  hair,  not  very 
abundant,  but  which  curled  slightly,  naturally,' — and 
Letitia,  'grave,  with  beautiful  dark  eyes  and  hair,  and 
rather  dark  complexion.'  Another  speaks  of  Letitia  as 
tall  and  handsome,  with  dark  eyes,  dark  chestnut  hair, 
regular  features,  and  sweet  smile. 

The  gravity  seems  to  have  been  a  marked  characteristic 
of  this  gifted  young  girl.     From  very  babyhood  she  was 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  127 

earnestly  religious,  and  of  a  peculiarly  serious  tempera- 
ment ;  though  at  the  same  time  energetic  and  sometimes 
even  lively.  She  had  not  her  aunt's  spirit  of  fun  ;  but  the 
two  were  alike  in  generosity  and  in  determination.  Per- 
haps Charlotte  Tucker's  training  had  especially  developed 
these  traits  in  her  niece.  A  favourite  proverb  of  Letitia's 
was — '  Perseverance  conquers  difficulties  ' ; — and  it  would 
have  served  equally  well  for  A.  L.  O.  E. 

Letitia  was  also  very  fond  of  little  children,  and  she 
worked  much  among  the  poor.  She  was  an  exceedingly 
good  and  fearless  rider  ;  and  at  twenty  years  old  there 
was  already  promise  of  a  literary  gift.  Her  passion  for 
reading  was  so  great  that  Hallam's  History  was  a 
recreation  in  her  eyes.  She  had  written  at  least  one  short 
story,  which  had  found  its  way  into  print,  and  many  pretty, 
simple  verses,  chiefly  of  a  religious  character.  One  of  her 
hymns,  composed  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  may  be  given 
here : — 


'  My  soul  was  dark,  for  o'er  its  sight 

The  shades  of  sorrow  fell  ; — 
In  Thee  alone  there  still  was  light, 
Jesus,  Immanuel ! 

'  And  all  around  me  and  above 

There  hung  a  gloomy  spell ; — 
I  should  have  died  without  Thy  love, 
Jesus,  Immanuel ! 

'  For  in  my  sinking  heart  there  beat 

An  ever-sounding  knell ; — 
But  still  I  knew  the  "  promise  sweet," 
Jesus,  Immanuel ! 

'  I  looked  to  Thee  through  all  my  fears. 

The  pain  and  grief  to  quell ; — 
Thy  Hand  hath  wiped  away  my  tears, 
Jesus,  Immanuel ! 


128  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

'  I  heard  a  low,  "  a  still  small  voice," 

Soft  whisper,  "  It  is  well "  ; — 
And  knew  the  Saviour  of  my  choice,  » 

Jesus,  Immanuel ! 

'  And  still,  o'er  all  life's  changing  sea, 

In  calm  or  stormy  swell, 
I  '11  look  in  faith  straight  up  to  Thee, 
Jesus,  Immanuel  !" 

On  November  28,  1864,  Letitia  left  English  shores,  to 
join  her  uncle,  Mr.  St.  George  Tucker  and  his  family,  in 
India.  Letters  of  Charlotte  Tucker,  referring  to  the 
event,  have  not  come  to  hand  ;  but  she  must  have  felt  the 
separation  very  keenly,  whatever  might  have  been  the 
precise  reasons  which  led  to  the  move.  Letitia  had  now 
been  practically  her  child  for  eighteen  years  ;  and  a  close 
tie  existed  between  the  two.  But  no  doubt  Charlotte 
looked  upon  the  parting  as  of  a  very  temporary  nature ; 
as  merely  sending  her  child  away  for  a  longer  visit  than 
any  preceding.  The  real  anguish  of  separation  came  a 
year  later,  when  suddenly  the  young  girl  was  summoned 
to  her  true  Home. 

The  few  following  extracts  lie  between  these  two  dates, — 
the  going  of  Letitia  to  India,  and  the  tidings  of  her  death. 

TO  Miss   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

^/an.  3,  1865. 

'  Many  thanks,  my  dear  Leila,  for  your  affectionate  note.  .  .  . 
There  was  another  nice  cheerful  note  from  my  Letitia  to-day.  She 
wrote  it  when  on  the  Red  Sea,  which  she  evidently  found  very  warm, 
for  she  described  the  ship  as  a  "  hothouse,"  and  said  that  she  and  her 
fellow-passengers  would  be  "  fine  exotics  "  before  they  arrived.  There 
had  been  two  Services  on  board  on  Sunday,  and  Letitia  had  heard 
two  excellent  sermons.  Mary  Egerton  had  her  harmonium  on  board, 
which  had  been  brought  up  from  the  hold,  so  there  was  nice  hymn- 
singing  too.    How  sweet  the  music  must  have  sounded  on  the  water ! 


L 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  129 

I  think  that,  steaming  over  the  Red  Sea,  one  would  have  Hked  to 
have  raised  the  song  of  the  Israelites— 

"  Sound  the  loud  timbrel  o'er  Egypt's  dark  sea, 
Jehovah  hath  triumphed,  His  people  are  free  !  " 

'  My  dear  sailor  is  to  leave  US  on  the  17th  or  i8th  for  China.  I 
believe  that  he  is  to  travel  part  of  the  journey  in  the  same  vessel  as 
the  Cuthbert  Thornhills,  who  were  to  have  taken  charge  of  Letitia 
had  our  first  arrangements  held  good.  They  will  have  one  Robin 
instead  of  the  other.  Poor  dear  Mrs.  Thornhill,  what  a  sad  parting 
is  before  her  !  I  had  a  loving  note  very  lately  from  my  Louis.  He 
fears  that  he  will  not  get  leave  to  see  his  dear  sister  for  a  twelve- 
month. 

'  The  weather  here  has  been  chilly.  None  of  the  ladies  have  ven- 
tured out  of  the  house  since  Saturday ;  but  Charley  has  in  vain  longed 
for  skating.  Ice  forms,  then  melts  again.  Dear  Grandmamma  keeps 
wonderfully  free  from  cold  ;  but  then  she  remains  in  the  house.' 


TO  MRS.  HAMILTON.     (Undated.) 

'  My  loved  boy  left  us  yesterday,  quiet  and  firm,  shedding  no  tear. 
We  (Mamma)  had  a  little  note  from  him  this  morning,— such  a 
simple  one, — you  might  have  fancied  that  he  had  only  left  us  for  a 
week.  Dear  boy  !  I  trust  that  he  is  going  into  sunshine  ;  above  all 
I  hope  and  pray  that  his  Father's  God  will  ever  be  with  him.  It 
would  not  have  been  well  for  him  to  have  remained  much  longer  in 
London  with  nothing  particular  to  do.  Active  life  is  most  wholesome 
to  a  fine  strong  man  like  my  Charley.  .  .  . 

'  Dear  Mother  keeps  well.  Sweet  Fan  I  cannot  give  so  good  an 
account  of.  I  have  urged  Mother  to  have  further  advice  ;  and  I 
believe  that  there  will  be  a  little  consultation  on  Friday  ;  but  perhaps 
you  had  better  not  write  about  this,  except  to  me.' 


TO  THE  SAME. 

'Nov.  15,  1865. 

'  What  a  bright  account  you  give  of  your  dear  busy  young  party 
Tell  dear  Otho  that  I  shall  be  charmed  if  he  makes  the  discovery  of  a 
magenta-coloured  caterpillar,  or  a  mauve  earwig  ;  and  that  as  it  will 
be  ten  times  as  curious  as  the  Spongmenta  Padella,  it  ought  to  have 
a  Latin  name  ten  times  as  long.  I  don't  despair  of  the  great  sea- 
I 


T30  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

serpent.  Did  I  tell  you  that  dear  Mrs.  Thornhill  had,  when  a  girl, 
conversed  with  a  Mrs.  Hodgeson,  wife  of  one  of  the  Governors  of  our 
West  Indian  possessions,  who  had  watched  the  movements  of  two 
that  were  fighting  in  the  waves  for  about  ten  minutes  ? 

"  'Twere  worth  ten  years  of  peaceful  life, 
One  glance  at  such  a  fray  ! — " 

I  took  down  the  particulars,  as  I  thought  them  very  curious.  .  .  . 

'  This  is  my  sweet  Letitia's  birthday ;  she  is  just  twenty.  .  .  .  My 
Letitia  is  going  to  pay  Louis  a  visit  at  Moultan.' 

No  foreboding  whisper  in  her  heart  spoke  of  what  that 
visit  to  Moultan,  so  Hghtly  mentioned,  would  mean  to 
them  all.  When  the  two  next  letters  were  penned,  little 
as  Charlotte  dreamt  of  what  was  coming,  the  blow  had 
already  fallen,  and  Letitia  had  passed  away. 

TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

^Jan.  2,  1866. 

*  May  the  best  blessings  of  the  opening  year  rest  upon  my  beloved 
Laura,  and  her  dear  circle. 

'  I  hope  that  dear  Leila  received  my  Rescued  from  Egypt  in  the 
Christmas  box.  I  put  it  up  for  her,  and  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge 
it  went  to  Bournemouth  ;  but  as  neither  she  nor  you  have  mentioned 
seeing  it,  I  feel  half  afraid  that  in  some  way  I  cannot  imagine 
it  has  missed  its  destination,  and  the  dear  girl  has  fancied  that  when 
sending  little  remembrances  to  her  brothers  I  had  forgotten  her. 

'Such  a  delightful  budget  of  letters  I  had  from  Letitia  by  last 
Southampton  mail !     She  writes  that  she  is  "  very  very  happy." ' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

'•Jan.  3,  1866. 
'  I  feel  that  I  have  not  said  half  enough  to  your  dear  husband  for 
his  splendid  book.  I  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  write  and  thank  him, 
that  I  only  gave  myself  time  for  a  cursory  glance.  .  .  .  Dear  Fanny 
enjoyed  looking  at  the  pictures  with  me  ;  and  to-day  I  carried  up  my 
book  to  dear  Mother,  that  she  might  have  the  pleasure  also.  She 
admires  your  dear  husband's  gift  greatly,  and  we  agree  that  it  is  just 
the  book  to  take  to  the  Cottage.  It  seems  to  be  quite  a  treasure  of 
curious  and  interesting  knowledge ;  a  volume  to  keep  for  reference  as 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  131 

well  as  for  perusal.  Do  thank  dear  Mr.  Hamilton  again  for  me,  and 
tell  him  that  I  consider  Homes  Without  Hands  as  a  family  acquisi- 
tion. 

'  We  are  all  much  in  statu  quo.  Our  time  is  now  passing  swiftly 
and  pleasantly.  Mother  looks  so  bright  and  bonny  and  young  !  We 
were  talking  together  to-day  of  your  and  your  dear  husband's  kind- 
ness to  sweet  Fanny.     I  am  sure  that  it  has  not  been  lost.' 

Then  came  the  mournful  news  ;  and  a  hasty  short  scrawl 
conveyed  the  first  intimation  of  it  from  Charlotte  Tucker 
to  her  niece,  '  Leila  '  Hamilton  ;  a  note  without  any  formal 
beginning : — 

*  Break  to  your  sweet  Mother  and  Aunt  Mina  that  God  has  taken 
my  darling  Letitia.     His  Will  be  done, — Your  sorrowing  Aunt, 

'  C.  M.  T. 
'All  was  peace, — smiling!^ 

The  illness  had  been  short, — a  severe  attack  of  erysi- 
pelas, while  Letitia  was  in  her  brother's  house  at  Moultan. 
Somewhat  early  in  the  illness  she  had  said, — '  I  am  sure  I 
shall  die  ;  but  one  ought  not  to  mind,  you  know.'  While 
delirious  she  was  heard  to  say  distinctly, — '  Ta,' — her  pet 
name  in  the  past  for  her  aunt  Charlotte  ;  but  the  message, 
if  there  were  one,  could  not  be  distinguished. 

After  much  wandering,  she  regained  sufficient  conscious- 
ness to  assure  those  around  that  she  was  suffering  no  pain  ; 
and  five  or  six  times  she  repeated  to  her  brother, — '  I  am 
very  fond  of  you ! '  This  was  on  a  Wednesday.  The 
next  day,  Thursday,  she  was  too  weak  for  speech  ;  though 
in  the  morning,  recognising  her  brother,  she  gave  him  a 
sweet  smile.  Thenceforward  the  dying  girl  was  entirely 
peaceful ;  as  said  by  one  of  those  present, — *  constantly 
smiling.  Her  whole  face  was  lighted  up  as  with  extreme 
pleasure.'  All  day  this  continued,  as  she  slowly  sank  ; 
the  face  remaining  perfectly  calm  and  untroubled ;  till 
at  length,  when  she  passed  away,  soon  after  eleven  o'clock 
at  night, '  she  ceased  to  breathe  so  gently  that  she  seemed 


132  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

to  have  fallen  into  a  deep  sleep.'  But  the  placid  smile 
was  still  there,  unchanged,  till  the  sweet  young  face  was 
hidden  away. 

Charlotte  Tucker,  writing  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
about  these  sad  particulars,  which  yet  were  not  all  sad, 
observed  : — 

'  1  am  sure  your  heart  has  been  aching,  and  your  eyes  have  been 
weeping-.  Such  a  sudden— such  an  unexpected  stroke  !  But  God 
is  Wisdom  and  Love.  .  .  . 

'  Darling — my  own  darling  Letitia !  Oh,  when  she  looked  so 
happy,  did  she  not  see  the  angels — or  her  beloved  Father — or  the 
Bedwells  and  old  Rodman  whom  she  had  so  tended, — perhaps  all 
coming  to  welcome  her,— or  the  loving  Saviour  Himself?  I  do  not 
grudge  her  to  Him  ;  but  oh,  what  a  wealth  of  love  I  have  (apparently) 
lost  in  that  one  young  heart !  Her  last  parcel  of  letters  to  me 
contained  sweet  commissions  for  her  poor.  ...  I  dare  say  that  I 
shall  hear  from  you  to-morrow  ;  but  it  is  a  relief  to  me  to  write 
now  to  you,  who  were  so  kind  and  dear  to  her.  I  went  out  before 
breakfast  this  morning.  A  thrush  was  singing  so  sweetly.  I  saw 
the  first  crocus  of  the.  year.  My  flower, — my  lovely  one,— she  may 
now  be  singing  in  joy,  while  we  sit  in  sorrow.' 

This  letter  was  dated  January  21  ;  and  three  days 
later  another  went  to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  not  from  Charlotte, 
but  from  Fanny  : — 

'My  own  dearest  Laura, — Your  dear  letters  have  been 
very  soothing  to  our  Charlotte,  and  have  helped  to  remind  her  of 
the  mercies  mingled  with  the  bereavement.  The  sure  sweet  hope 
that  her  darling  is  safe,  and  for  ever  happy,  has  been  her  strong 
consolation  ;  and  God  is  mercifully  supporting  her,  I  am  thankful  to 
say.     Last  Sunday  she  went  both  to  Church  and  to  the  Workhouse. 

'  I  am  thankful  to  be  near  her,  to  minister  to  her, — but  wish  I  were 
a  better  comforter,  such  as  you  would  have  been,  dear. 

'The  sad  tidings  were  most  gently  broken  to  our  dear  Mother 
by  Clara.  She  was  therefore  mercifully  spared  the  shock  of  the 
sudden  intelligence. 

'With  kindest  remembrances  to  dear  Mr.  Hamilton,  and  love  to 
your  dear  self  and  your  dear  ones,  believe  me,  dearest  Laura,  your 
very  affectionate  F.  Tucker.' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  133 

C.    M.   T.    TO   A  COUSIN. 

''Jan.  24,  1866. 

*  Many  thanks  for  your  kind  sympathy.  My  sweet  consolation 
indeed  is  that  my  own  darling  girl  sleeps  in  Jesus.  When  such  a 
bright  look  of  "  extreme  pleasure "  lighted  up  the  dear  face  of  one 
called  away  in  the  bloom  of  her  youth  and  beauty,  was  she  not 
reahsing  her  own  sweet  lines, — 

"  I  heard'a  Voice,  '  a  still  small  Voice,' 
Soft  whisper,  '  It  is  well,' 
And  knew  the  Saviour  of  my  choice, 
Jesus,  Immanuel  "  ?  ' 

TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

'/^?^.  6,  1866. 

'  Did  I  ever  tell  you  that  my  darling  wrote  to  me  when  she  was 
at  the  Hills,  saying  that  she  did  not  wish  me  to  be  altogether  dis- 
appointed in  regard  to  her,  and  asking  me  whom  I  would  wish  her 
to  try  to  resemble,  I  mentioned  you, — for  I  thought  that  as  her 
disposition  was  lively,  it  would  be  more  easy  for  her  to  try  to  be 
like  you  than  dear  Fanny ;  besides  she  had  seen  you  as  a  wife 
and  mother,  and  I  did  not  know  whether  the  Almighty  might  not 
destine  her  to  be  such.  He  had  something  "far  better"  for  my 
loved  one. 

'  It  will  interest  you  to  know  that  G (P 's  protegee)^  after 

winning  honours  at  Cambridge,  wishes  to  be  baptized  as  a  Christian. 

Amy  H and  her  husband  are  to  be  two  of  his  witnesses,  and  he 

is  anxious  that  dear  Henry  ^  should  be  the  third  ;  for  it  was  Henry's 
consistent  character  which  first  showed  him  what  Christianity  really 


TO   MISS   'LEILA'  HAMILTON. 

'Feb.  13,  1866. 
'  I  thank  you  lovingly,  dearest  Leila,  for  your  letter.  I  prize  your 
affection, — you  write  to  me  almost  as  my  own  darling  used  to  write. 
If  my  health  had  broken  down,  so  that  I  could  not  have  been  a 
comfort  to  dear  Grandmamma  and  Aunt  Fanny  here,  I  should 
thankfully  have  accepted  the  invitation  which  you  so  affectionately 
press ;  but  as  I  keep  pretty  well,  I  do  not  think  that  it  would  be 

1  Mr.  Henry  Carre  Tucker. 


134  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

well  for  me  to  leave  my  post  at  home.  Dear  Grandmamma  seems 
to  cling  to  me  so, — she  is  so  loving  !  I  am  thankful  that  she  keeps 
so  well.  Dear  Aunt  Fanny  was  not  so  well  for  two  days,  but  is 
better  again.  .  .  . 

'  My  darling  once  wrote  and  asked  me  whose  character  I  would 
like  her  to  try  to  copy  as  a  pattern.  I  gave  her  your  sweet  Mother's. 
She  replied  that  it  would  be  difficult,  but  that  it  was  well  to  aim 
high.  I  think  that  you  will  like  to  know  this.  You  have  the  same 
sweet  model  always  before  you  ;  you,  dear  one,  have  advantages  that 
my  darling  had  not. 

'  Though  I  have  cried  over  this  note,  it  has  soothed  me  to  write 
it ;  I  have  felt  as  if  I  were  taking  another  dear  young  niece  to  my 
heart, — a  sad  heart,  but  I  trust  not  an  ungrateful  one  for  the  earthly 
affection  which  is  God's  gift,  and  of  which  I  have  been  granted 
much. — Your  affectionate  Aunt  and  Godmother  C.  M.  T.' 


TO   MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'1866. 

'  I  send  you  on  the  other  page  a  few  lines  which  came  into  my 
mind  yesterday  in  regard  to  my  sweet  Letitia  : — 

•A  Thought. 

'  She  travelled  to  the  glorious  East ;  she  met  the  rising  sun, — 
And  even  so  her  day  of  heavenly  bliss  was  soon  begun  ; 
I  knew  'twas  sunrise  with  my  child,  while  night  was  o'er  me  weeping, 
E'er  closed  my  weary  day,  my  darling  was  serenely  sleeping. 
And  so  Thou  didst  ordain,  O  Lord,  as  Thou  didst  deem  it  best, — 
That  hers  should  be  the  earlier  dawn,  and  hers  the  earlier  rest.' 


TO  MISS   B.    F.   TUCKER. 

'  May  12,  1866. 

'  I  have  been  learning  a  new  art,  and  am  thankful  to  find  that  I 
have  sufficient  energy  left  in  me  to  do  so.  I  sent  for  some  reading 
in  embossed  letters  for  a  blind  man  here,  and  amused  myself  by 
puzzling  it  out  myself  I  have  succeeded  in  reading  right  through 
the  fourteenth  of  St.  John  in  two  sittings  of  about  an  hour  and  twenty 
minutes  each.  It  was  an  effort  of  memory  as  well  as  attention,  as 
some  of  the  letters  are  utterly  unlike  those  to  which  we  have  been 
accustomed.  The  poor  blind  man  promises  well  to  acquire  the  art, 
I  think.' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  135 

TO  THE  SAME. 

'July  16,  1866. 

'Have  you  seen  the  mysterious  sky-visitor?  On  Friday  evening 
our  maids  saw  something  like  three  stars,  one  red, — but  they  dis- 
appeared. On  the  following  night  Cousins  ^  called  me  to  look  on 
what  I  would  not  have  missed  seeing  for  a  good  deal.  About  thirty 
degrees  above  the  horizon,  I  should  think,  shone  what  was  like  a 
star,  but  more  splendid  than  any  that  I  had  ever  beheld,  of  a  brilliant 
magenta  colour.  It  was  no  falling  star  passing  rapidly  through  the 
sky,  but  appeared  quite  fixed  in  the  heavens  for — perhaps  ten 
minutes.  As  I  gazed  with  something  like  awe  on  its  wondrous 
beauty,  suddenly  its  colour  utterly  changed ;  the  magenta  became 
white,  with  a  greenish  tinge ;  and  then — as  suddenly — the  star  dis- 
appeared ;  not  as  if  hidden  by  a  cloud,  but  as  \i put  out. 

'  I  watched  for  the  mysterious  light  last  night,  but  could  not  see 
it ;  the  evening  had  been  so  strangely  dark  that  we  had  lighted 
candles  an  hour  before  sunset,  though  our  window  looks  to  the 
west.  No  star  was  visible  to  me  ;  but  our  maids  had  a  short  glimpse 
of  a  strange  light.  I  am  sitting  by  the  window  now  to  watch  for 
the  visitor  in  the  north-west.  ...  I  searched  The  Tunes  to-day  to 
see  if  there  were  any  mention  of  it,  but  could  find  none.' 

Evidently  Charlotte  Tucker  had  been  fortunate  enough 
to  see  a  very  fine  meteor ;  though  probably  the  supposed 
duration  of  ten  minutes  was  in  reality  a  good  deal 
shorter.  The  idea  of  watching  for  the  same  meteor  next 
night  is  somewhat  amusing.  The  maids  doubtless  saw 
what  they  expected  to  see  ;  but  Charlotte  Tucker,  though 
non-scientific,  was  far  too  practical  so  to  indulge  her 
powers  of  imagination. 

In  another  letter  written  during  this  same  July  to  Mrs. 
Hamilton  occurs  one  little  sentence  well  worth  quoting, 
for  it  is  a  sentence  which  might  serve  as  a  motto  for  many 
a  seemingly  empty  and  even  purposeless  life — 

'It  is  sweet  to  be  somebody's  sunshine.' 

In 'June  Mrs.  Tucker  had  written  to  a  friend, — 'Charlotte 

1  The  lady's-maid. 


136  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

walked  twice  to  church,  and  thinks  she  is  stronger.'  And 
in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  on  the  23rd  of  July,  Charlotte 
said  of  herself, — '  I  am  quite  well  now,  and  up  to  work ' ; 
— yet  the  following  to  a  niece,  on  September  ist,  does  not 
speak  of  fully  restored  energies  : — 

'  I  have  so  much  to  be  grateful  for,  I  wish  that  I  were  of  a  more 
thankful  spirit.  It  seems  as  if  this  year  had  aged  me.  When  I 
saw  a  bright  creature  like  ,  I  mentally  contrasted  her  with  my- 
self, and  thought, — "  She  has  not  the  gee  out  of  her.  Cheerfully 
and  hopefully  she  enters  on  her  untried  sphere  of  work.  In  her 
place  I  should  be  taking  cares  ! " — very  wrong  of  me.  I  often  take 
myself  to  task. 

'  I  feel  putting  off  my  dark  dress  for  one  day  on  Wednesday.  .  .  . 
My  darling  was  to  me  what  she  was  not  to  her  other  Aunts.' 


To  some  people,  or  in  certain  states  of  body  and  mind, 
the  afternoon  is  apt  to  be  a  more  tired  time  than  the 
evening.  At  this  stage  in  Charlotte  Tucker's  Afternoon 
of  life  she  passed  through  a  somewhat  weary  spell,  though 
never  really  ill ;  but  her  energies  were  to  revive  for  the 
work  of  her  Eventide. 

On  October  6th  she  could  say, — 

'  I  am  not  poorly,  though  I  look  thin  ;  I  think  that  I  am  stronger 
in  health  and  firmer  in  spirit  now  than  I  have  been  almost  all  this 
trying  year ;  and  for  this  I  am  thankful' 

TO   Miss    'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

'Nov.  2,  1866. 

'  Your  sweet  Mother  will  wonder  at  not  receiving  the  little  book 
which  I  promised  to  send  her ;  but  our  bookseller,  from  whom  I 
ordered  the  copy,  has  been  unable  to  get  it  yet.  I  will  tell  you 
something  that  may  cause  delay.  Of  course  I  looked  with  some 
interest  at  the  illustrations  which  my  Publisher  sent  me  ;  but  I 
was  not  a  little  surprised  in  the  last  one  to  find  one  whom  I  con- 
sidered to  be  a  man  represented  as  a  bear\  He  was  bearish  in 
character  certainly,  but  still — certainly  not  a  bear  in  shape. 

'  Of  course  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Inglis  about  it ;  who  replied  that  he 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  137 

had  been  annoyed  himself  at  the  resemblance  to  a  bear,  and  had 
sent  the  picture  more  than  once  to  be  altered,  and  had  been  at  last 
so  much  provoked  that  he  had  paid  off  the  artist  altogether.  Now, 
though  I  may  be  a  little  sorry  for  the  poor  man, — I  never  proposed 
his  dismissal, — I  confess  I  am  rather  glad  that  he  is  not  to  illustrate 
my  books  any  more.  There  is  no  saying  what  creature  he  might 
turn  my  characters  into  next.  Mr.  Inglis  is  going  to  have  the 
picture  altered  ;  so  this  may  occasion  delay.' 


CHAPTER    XI 

A.D.  1 867- 1 868 
GIVING   COMFORT  TO   OTHERS 

Three  more  years  only  remained  to  Charlotte  of  life  in 
the  dear  old  home  of  her  infancy.  Those  three  years 
passed  quietly,  marked  by  no  stirring  events.  On  the 
nth  of  December  1867,  Otho  St.  George  Hamilton,  son 
of  her  sister  Laura,  died  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  after  a 
long  illness ;  and  during  these  years  Fanny  continued 
steadily  to  fail.  The  delicacy  developed  into  a  case  of 
decided  consumption,  but  of  a  slow  and  lingering  descrip- 
tion. A  few  sentences  are  culled  from  the  many  letters 
which  remain,  belonging  to  this  period. 

TO   Miss   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

'Feb.  1867. 

'  I  wish  my  sweet  Leila  to  receive  a  few  lines  on  her  birthday. 
.  .  .  Temples  fugit^  indeed.  When  you  open  this  you  will  be  thirteen 
years  old.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  each  year  now  were  growing  more 
and  more  important ;  the  stream  is  widening  ;  the  mind  is  opening  ; 
and  .  .  .  may  the  heart  be  opening  too  to  that  Love  which  is  beyond 
all  earthly  love, 

'  I  had  a  pleasant  childhood.  My  mind  was  very  active,  as  well 
as  my  bodily  frame  ;  and  at  your  age  I  dare  say  that  life  lay  before 
me,  a  bright,  hope-inspiring  thing.  It  is  well  that  it  should  be 
so  ;  it  is  a  kind  arrangement  of  Providence  that  the  young  should 
be  usually  full  of  energy  and  hope.  I  like  to  recall  how  I  felt,  that 
I  may  enter  into  the  feelings  of  others. 

'  Now  of  course  I  have  not  exactly  the  same  kind  of  landscape 
before  me  as  I  had  at  thirteen.     I  am  in  my  forty-sixth  year,  have 

138 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  139 

known  care  and  sorrow,  and  have  at  present  but  feeble  health.  And 
yet,  dear,  I  don't  want  to  exchange  my  landscape  ;  I  have  no  wish 
to  go  back.  I  have  found  that  middle  age  has  its  deep  joys,  as  well 
as  early  youth  its  sparkling  ones.  Sometimes  I  ask  myself, — "  Now, 
in  my  present  position,  if  I  had  no  pleasure  in  religion,  if  every- 
thing connected  with  that  were  cut  off,  what  would  be  left  me  ? — what 
would  life  be  to  me  ?  "  O  Leila,  what  a  tasteless,  what  a  bitter  thing  ! 
We  want  delights  that  will  not  grow  old,  that  will  never  pall,  that 
will  be  just  as  fresh  and  lovely  at  eighty  as  at  eighteen.  Religion 
is  not  merely,  as  some  seem  to  fancy,  to  prepare  us  for  death,  but 
to  be  the  happiness  of  life.  It  calls  indeed  for  the  sacrifice  of  self- 
will  in  a  hundred  little  ways  ;  but  it  repays  those  little  sacrifices  a 
hundred  times  over.  Just  think  what  it  is  to  realise  such  thoughts 
as  these, — "  The  Lord  Jesus  loves  me  !  I  am  His  own  !  I  shall 
see  Him  one  day,  and  be  with  Him  ! "  How  can  such  thoughts 
ever  lose  their  sweetness?' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

'  April  2Z,  1867. 
'  How  different  your  still,  noiseless  dwelling  must  be  to  ours  at 
present  !     Not  that  we  have  much  noise,  but  sometimes  so  much 

seems  going  on.    Yesterday  M A D and  a  young  cousin 

came  in  the  morning  ;  then  before  they  had  left  Cousin  M E 

and  four  fine  children,  then  Uncle  St.  George  and  his  wife.  All 
this  before  luncheon ;  others  came  after  it ;  and  1  went  to  the 
Poorhouse,  and  then  lodging-hunting  with  Uncle  St.  George.  He 
is  so  sweet  and  loving  and  good.  .  .  .  He  delights  Grandmamma.' 

TO  THE   SAME. 

'July  I,  1867. 

'  It  is  mournfully  interesting  to  read  my  darling's  papers,  of  which 

L has  brought  home  many.     Her  prose  is  usually  lively  ;  her 

poetry  full  of  tenderness,  often  very  sad.  .  .  .  The  two  latest  dated 
poems  were,  I  think,  written  August  14.  They  were  called  "An 
Early  Grave "  and  "  All  is  Vanity."  Every  stanza  of  the  first 
expresses  desire  for  an  early  departure.  The  second  thus  beautifully 
closes — 

' '  There  's  rest  beneath  the  yew  ;  I  know 
There 's  deeper  Rest  in  realms  above  ; 
The  Saviour's  Arm  the  valley  through 

Will  me  uphold  with  strengthening  love  ; 
My  hope  His  Righteousness  ;  my  buckler,  faith  ; 
Why  should  I  fear  to  tread  the  shades  of  death?" 


I40  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

'  If  this  really  be  the  darling's  last  written  stanza,  what  a  touching 
interest  it  gives  it ! ' 

TO   MISS   B.    F.   TUCKER. 

'5^//.  9,  1867. 

'  Poor  little  Otho  has  rallied  again,  though  the  doctor  holds  out  no 
hope  of  ultimate  recovery.  This  is  a  sad  time  for  my  poor  Laura, 
though  there  are  sorer  trials  than  that  of  bereavement.' 

The  Hamiltons  were  at  this  time  in  great  trouble,  as 
they  watched  the  long-drawn-out  sufferings  of  their  dying 
boy  ;  and  many  letters  were  written  by  Charlotte  to  her 
favourite  sister,  full  of  intense  feeling.  Day  by  day  she 
lived  with  them  in  their  sorrow,  anxiously  looking  out  for 
fresh  tidings,  and  thinking  what  she  could  say  to  comfort 
or  soothe. 

TO   MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'6>^/.  30,  1867. 

'Precious  Sister, — Your  touching  letter  has  quickened  the  spirit 
of  Prayer  ;  but  oh,  I  feel  as  if  my  prayers  were  often  so  weak  and 
worthless.  I  want  more  faith,  more  earnestness.  I  have  not  time 
to  write  more,  but  could  not  let  that  letter  be  unanswered  by  your 
loving  C.  M.  T.' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

'■Nov.  9,  1867. 

'  Fanny  and  I  have  been  conversing  to-night  on  the  subject  of 
your  dear  suffering  boy.  You  long  fervently  to  see  him  rejoicing  in 
the  prospect  of  departing  and  being  with  Christ.  Perhaps  the  one 
obstacle  to  his  being  able  to  do  so  is  the  thought  of  parting  from 
you.  If  his  Mother  were  going  with  him,  he  may  think,  he  would  be 
happy  to  go. 

'  Now  to  me,  were  I  in  your  darling's  position,  there  would  be 
comfort  and  pleasure  in  the  idea — "  Perhaps,  as  regards  me,  leaving 
the  body  will  7iot  be  real  separation  from  dear  ones.  Perhaps  I  may 
be  allowed  to  come  to  them,  and  minister  to  them,  and  cheer  them  ; 
though  they  cannot  see  me  I  may  see  them  ! "  This  idea  does  not 
appear  opposed  to  Scripture.  The  rich  man  in  the  parable  believed 
that  Lazarus  could  go  to  Earth ;  and  Abraham  never  said  that  he 
could  7iot.  If  dear  Otho  thought  that  he  might  possibly  be  per- 
mitted to  watch  over  his  Mother,  and  help  to  make  her  happy,  and 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  141 

be  one  of  the  first  to  welcome  her  to  bliss, — perhaps  the  real 
bitterness  of  death  would  for  him  seem  taken  away.  It  seems  quite 
possible  that  dear  Robin  was  by  his  child's  sick-bed,  and  that  she 
saw  him,  when  her  face  so  lighted  up  with  joy.  "  I  believe  in  the 
Communion  of  Saints." 

*Your  dear  boy  is  very  young.  A  child's  religion  seems  almost  to 
begin  with  the  Fifth  Commandment.  We  can  hardly  yet  expect 
dear  Otho  to  love  the  Lord  whom  he  has  not  seen  more  than  the 
parents  whom  he  has  seen  and  fondly  loved.  Do  you  not  think, 
darling,  that  you  are  almost  too  anxious  on  the  subject  of  Otho's  state 
of  mind  ?  He  is  only  a  lamb  ;  and  the  Good  Shepherd  knows  that 
he  needs  to  be  carried. 

'  I  should  like  to  know  when  your  dear  boy  takes  the  Holy  Com- 
munion, that  I  may  be  with  you  in  thought  and  in  prayer.  Otho  is 
an  invited  guest  to  the  Great  Feast  above  ;  his  robe  is  prepared  by  his. 
Lord, — don't  fear,  love,  that  it  will  not  be  very  white  and  very  fair.  .  .  . 

^  P.S. — Nov.  10. — I  have  been  thinking  much  of  your  dear  one  in 
church  ;  and  I  open  my  note  to  add  another  reason  suggested  to  my 
mind,  as  a  cause  why  he  may  be  unable  ...  to  feel  joy  in  the 
thought  of  departure.  You  and  I,  my  Laura,  have  known  many  of 
God's  saints  now  in  bliss  ;  we  have  almost  as  many  dear  friends  in 
the  world  of  spirits  as  in  this.  Perhaps  we  are  hardly  aware  of  the 
influence  which  this  has  on  our  minds, — how  it  helps  to  make 
Heaven  a  home.  Your  dear  boy  may  feel  that  he  is  going  to  enter 
amongst  a  great  company  of  saints,  almost  every  one  of  whom  is  a 
stranger  to  him.  To  one  so  reserved  as  Otho,  this  may  be  rather  an 
awful  thought.  I  wonder  if  it  is  a  comfort  to  him  to  think  of  sweet 
Letitia  and  Christian  ^  being  there.  Perhaps  if  you  reminded  him  of 
that,  it  might  remove  a  feeling  which — if  he  entertains  it — he  might 
not  like  to  mention  even  to  you.' 

TO  THE   SAME. 

^  Nov.  13,  1867. 

'  I  thank  God  that  He  has  made  your  darling  willing  to  depart, 
even  to  leave  you.  Your  note  is  deeply  interesting  ;  and  I  think  you 
may  feel  that  your  prayers  have  been  answered.  .  .  .  You  must  now 
only  think  of  the  "far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory." 
Probably  every  hour  of  suffering  in  some  mysterious  way  enhances 
and   increases  future  rapture, — rapture  more  intense  than  we  can 

1  Otho's  youngest  brother,  who  died  an  infant. 


142  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

conceive.  The  longer  I  live,  the  more  convinced  I  feel  that  there  is 
this  mysterious  connection — in  the  case  of  God's  children — between 
personal  pain  and  future  delight.  So  that,  if  we  could,  as  we  fain 
would,  shield  our  treasures  from  suffering,  we  might  be  depriving 
them  of  some  rich  blessing. 

'  You  are  in  the  furnace,  my  precious  sister, — a  hotter  furnace, 
perhaps,  than  that  which  tries  your  child.  I  need  not  repeat  that 
whenever  you  want  me,  you  have  only  to  send  for  me.  You  and  I 
understand  each  other !  How  sweet  is  the  tie  between  us  !  Dear 
Mother  is  apt  to  indulge  hopes  of  your  boy's  recovery.  I  think  that 
she  hardly  realises  his  state,  and  probably  she  scarcely  knows  how 
to  write  under  the  circumstances.  She  has  had  a  cold  these  last 
few  days,  but  is,  I  hope,  throwing  it  off.  .  .  . 

'  I  send  you  a  little  book,i  which  I  am  sure  will  interest  you.  It 
has  been  a  mournful  pleasure  to  me  to  prepare  it.  Your  lamb  as 
well  as  mine  will  probably  soon  "  be  folded  above." ' 

TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

''Nov.  14,  1867. 

*  My  heart  feels  more  with  you,  my  Laura,  in  that  still  sick-room 
than  here.  Perhaps  many  angels  are  about  you  and  your  boy,  though 
you  see  them  not. 

'  Like  your  dear  invalid,  I  am  especially  fond  of  St.  Luke's  account 
of  the  dying  thief.  There  is  something  so  touching  in  his  looking  at 
such  a  moment  to  the  Saviour,  whose  Blood,  shed  for  his  salvation, 
was  at  that  moment  trickling  down  in  his  view  ;  and  there  is  some- 
thing so  sublime  in  our  Lord's  conferring  Eternal  Life, — such  a  gift, 
— at  the  time  when  He  was  Himself  undergoing  the  terrible  sentence 
of  death  !  We  may  envy  your  dear  suffering  child,  my  Laura,  when 
we  think  how  soon,  in  human  expectation,  his  eyes  will  behold  the 
King  in  His  beauty. 

'O  darling,  you  could  hardly  wish  to  keep  him  back,  when  the 
Master  calls  him, — calls  him  to  His  Home — His  Arms  ! 

'  I  feel  for  your  dear  husband  ;  this  is  a  time  of  sore  trial  for  him  ; 
but  you  suffer  together.  May  God  give  you  both  "songs  in  the 
night."  Those  songs  are  perhaps  sweeter  to  Him  than  the  Hallelujahs 
of  the  Angels.' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

^  Nov.  21,  1867. 
'  How  well  I  know  that  feeling  which  you  describe, — the  feeling  of 

1  A  tiny  Memorial  of  Letitia,  containing  some  of  her  verses. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  143 

being  unable  to  pray  fervently, — of  being  scarcely  able  to  pray  at  all  ! 
This  is  probably  caused  ...  by  fatigue  of  body,  and  overstraining 
of  mind  and  nerves.  Perhaps  God  permits  it,  that  we  should  just 
sink  in  complete  helplessness  at  our  Saviour's  Feet,  and  ask  Him  to 
pray  for  us,  since  we  cannot  pray  for  ourselves.  .  .  .  You  may  be 
like  a  very  little  child,  that  can't  even  ask  for  what  it  needs,  but  yet 
trusts  and  fears  not.' 

TO  MISS  LEILA  HAMILTON. 

'Dec.  II,  1867. 

'  Your  very  very  sad  account  of  dear  Otho  received  this  morning 
makes  one  think  that,  even  before  this  reaches  you,  the  sufferer 
may  have  been  called  hoine  !  Oh  what  a  blessing  it  is  that  it  is  indeed 
Home.  .  .  .  Dear  Otho  has  had  a  sorely  trying  journey,  wintry  and 
wearisome  indeed  ;  but  there  is  no  shadow,  never  can  be  a  shadow, 
on  the  Home  to  which  he  is  bound.  He  will  never  have  to  leave  it 
again,  to  learn  the  lesson  of  patience  in  pain.  He  will,  through  his 
Lord's  merits,  be  ready  there  to  welcome  the  dear  ones  whom  he  is 
now  leaving  behind, — when  they  too  may  quit  their  school,  and  go 
to  their  Father  in  Heaven.  .  .  . 

'  This  is  a  solemn  time  for  you,  my  Leila.  I  had  reached  the  age 
of  thirty  before  I  ever  looked  upon  that  which  is  called  death,  in  my 
own  home.  These  events  make  the  invisible  world  seem  nearer. 
They  should  draw  us  upwards  ;  they  should  bring  us  closer  to  our 
God.' 

TO  MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'■Dec.  12,  1867. 

'Most  precious  Laura,— When  Lady  Catherine  L 's  only 

son  was  called,  she  sank  on  her  knees,  and  said,—"  My  child,  I  wish 
you  joy  ! "  so  wonderfully  was  she  enabled  to  realise  the  happiness, 
the  ecstasy,  of  the  freed  spirit,  rising  up  to  the  presence  of  her 
Saviour  and  God.  Happy,  happy  Otho  !  No  more  to  be  pitied,  but 
to  be  envied  ! 

'  "  O  change,  O  wondrous  change  ! 
Burst  are  the  prison  bars, — 
One  moment  past — how  low 
In  mortal  pangs, — and  now 
Beyond  the  stars  !  " 

'  I  will  not  write  much  to  you  now,  darling.  I  am  going  to  see 
your  Freddie,  but  intend  to  tell  him  nothing. 


144  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

'  Express  my  tender  sympathy  to  your  dear  husband.  God  support 
you  all. — Your  loving  C.  M.  T.' 

TO   MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'Jan.  14,  1868. 

'  It  was  not  with  dry  eyes,  my  beloved  Laura,  that  I  could  read 
what  was  written  in  those  volumes,  to  which  a  tenfold  value  is  given 
by  their  being  last  Remembrances  from  your  lately  suffering,  now 
blessed  boy.  Oh,  with  what  a  heavy  heavy  heart  must  you  have  put 
up  those  parcels,  and  written  those  inscriptions  !  It  will  perhaps  be 
a  long  time  before  you  can  realise  with  calm  thankfulness  that  it 
is  indeed  so  "well  with  the  child"  that  you  can  rejoice  in  his  safety, 
his  happiness.  ...  I  am  now  much  more  disposed  to  praise  for  my 
angel- girl  than  to  weep  for  her.  ...  I  can  see  so  clearly  the  Love 
and  Wisdom  that  took  her  Home.  Presently,  my  precious  sorrowing 
sister,  you  may  feel  the  same  about  your  boy.  Your  intense  love 
will  remain,  for  love  is  immortal  ;  your  sorrow  will  die,  for  sorrow 
with  Christ's  people  is  not  immortal,  thank  God. — Your  tenderly 
loving  C.  M.  Tucker.' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

'  I  have  enjoyed  your  dear  letter,  and  it  makes  me  feel  thankful. 
I  have  often  thought  that  freed  spirits  probably  lead  a  life  of  delight- 
ful activity  ;  none  of  the  "  burdens  of  the  flesh  "  to  fetter  them  down. 
The  idea  of  spirits  preaching  to  spirits  is,  however,  rather  new  to  me. 
But  there  seems  nothing  against  it,  and  probability  rather  in  its 
favour.  That  verse  in  St.  Peter,  to  which  you  refer,  certainly 
strengthens  the  idea;  for  the  disciples  are  permitted  in  so  many 
ways  to  follow  their  Master. 

'  It  is  thus  possible  that,  while  you  are  weeping  for  your  darling,  if 
your  eyes  were  opened,  you  might  see  him  the  bright,  joyful  centre  of 
a  little  group  of  spirits  of  Indian  children,^  repeating  to  them  the 
lessons  which  he  first  learned  from  you,  but  which  he  would  now 
know  better — oh,  how  much  better  ! — than  you  could  ever  teach  him. 
I  am  sure  that  you  would  not  wish  to  take  him  back  again  to  pain 
and  weakness  from  such  an  occupation.' 

1  The  two  chief  interests  of  Otho  Hamilton  in  his  short  hfe  were — Natural 
History,  and  Missions  among  the  Heathen.  This  is  doubtless  in  reference  to  the 
latter. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  145 

TO   THE  SAME. 

'April  14,  1868. 

'My  own  sweet  Laura,— I  feel  that  this  month  must  be  full  of 
heavy  recollections  to  you  ;  and  oh,  it  is  hard  to  have  a  bright  face  to 
hide  a  bleeding  heart.  I  hope  that  you  will  not  put  any  restraint  upon 
yourself  with  me.  .  .  .  Easter  has  its  peculiar  message  of  hope  and 
joy  to  the  mourner.  Nature,  bursting  into  new  life  and  beauty, 
repeats  the  message,  gives  it  to  us  as  it  were  in  an  illumination  of 
green  leaves  and  bright  blossoms.  The  Church  says,  "  Christ  is  risen 
indeed  ! " — and  all  around  us  joyfully  adds,  "  And  we  shall  rise 
again  !  "  Your  parting  with  your  boy  is  over  ;  now  only  the  meeting 
is  before  you.  The  shadows  fall  behind  ;  the  glowing  sunshine  is  in 
front.' 


CHAPTER    XII 

A.D.    1868-1872 

THE  OLD   HOME   BROKEN    UP 

One  letter  at  about  this  time  gives  particulars  of  how- 
Charlotte  tried  to  influence,  not  without  results,  a  poor 
Roman  Catholic  woman,  whom  she  came  across  in  the 
Infirmary.  Another  makes  allusion  to  the  Ragged  Schools 
and  their  work,  in  which  she  was  always  greatly  interested. 
Yet  another  contains  the  answer  to  an  inquiry  from  a  niece 
about  a  book  which  should  be  bought,  probably  for  a 
gift.  The  suggested  choice  ranges  between  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  Felicia  Hemans,  Jean  Ingelow,  the  Author  of  The 
S chonb erg- Cotta  Family^  and  Miss  Sewell, — a  rather  curious 
mixture. 

TO   MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

'July  7,  1868. 
'  I  met  a  mole  the  other  day  in  a  field.  It  did  not  attempt  to 
get  away,  but  let  me  stroke  it ;  and  had  I  chosen  I  could  easily 
have  taken  it  up  in  my  hand.  This  seems  quite  a  country  for  moles. 
I  have  seen  them  repeatedly.  I  take  a  greater  interest  in  them, 
from  that  book,  Homes  Without  Hands,  which  your  father  kindly 
gave  me.' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

'Aug.  II,  1868. 

'  We  have  strange  pets  here.     There  are  numbers  of  wasps  ;   I 

never  saw  so  many  at  any  one  time,  I  think.     They  sting  our  poor 

maids  in  the  kitchen,  but  behave  in  such  a  gentlemanly  way  in  the 

drawing-room,  that,  instead  of  a  plague,  they  seem  a  pleasure  to 

146 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  147 

dear  Grandmamma.     She  watches  them,  feeds  them,  admires  their 

beauty,  and  calls  them  her  babies.     One  got  within  Aunt  C 's 

jacket,  which  naturally  rather  alarmed  her.  She  drew  the  jacket 
off,  and  I  found  the  wasp  in  the  sleeve.     It  had  been  between  it 

and  C 's  bare  skin,  and  yet  had  never  stung  her. 

'  I  dare  say  that  you  are  rather  impatient  to  be  settled  in  Firlands.' 

TO   THE  SAME. 

'5^//.  21,  1868. 

'  On  Saturday and  I  read  my  Castle  of  Carlsmont  aloud  to 

dear  Grandmamma.     I  have  been  amused  at 's  little  criticisms, 

and  shall  like  to  know  how  far  yours  agree  with  hers,  if  you  read 

my  Tragedy.     says  that  "  Clara  is  rather  stupid "  ;  that  she 

likes  Agnes  best.  "  I  have  rather  a  sneaking  likeness  for  Agnes," 
says  she.  She  says  that  the  ending  disappoints  her ;  she  would 
cut  off  the  last  page  and  the  four  preceding  lines,  which  would 
completely  alter  the  whole  ending.  The  ending  stood  originally 
just  as  she  would  have  it  ;  but  years  afterwards  I  added  the  page 
and  four  lines,  which  /think  an  improvement. 

'Tell  me  frankly  what  you  think,  and  whether  you  approve  of 
the  style  of  binding.  You  remember  when  I  talked  to  you  about 
the  Tragedy,  as  we  sat  together  in  the  garden.  The  two  things 
that  occurred  to  you  were, — how  could  I  get  the  work,  when  printed, 
sold;  and  that  people  would  not  like  it  in  pamphlet  shape.  Messrs. 
Nelson  have  obviated  the  first  difficulty  ;  and  by  having  covers  put 
on  by  the  Jewish  Society,  I  have  obviated  the  second.  I  am  sure 
my  wee  book  will  have  your  good  wishes,  dear,  that  it  may  bring 
in  a  little  sum  to  dear  Auntie  Fanny's  Mission  purse. 

'  You  will  wonder  what  has  become  of  that  work  of  mine,  of  which 
I  read  part  to  you  last  year.  I  can  only  warn  you,  my  dear  Leila, 
when  you  write  a  story,  don't  call  it  On  the  Way, — for  it  seems 
to  be  always  on  the  way,  and  never  to  arrive. 

'  What  a  long  note  I  have  written  !  Pay  me  back  by  a  review 
of  my  Tragedy,  and  be  as  blunt  as  ever  you  like  ;  for  if  you  tell  me 
that  my  poor  lady  is  "  very  stupid,"  instead  of  "  rather  stupid,"  you 
will  only  make  me  smile.' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

^Eed.  4,  1869. 
'  It  is  only  fair  that   I   should  send  you  a  long  account  of  the 
wedding.!     l'  thought  that    I    should  be  the   first  of  the  party  in 

1  Marriage  of  Miss  Bella  Frances  Tucker  to  her  cousin,  the  Rev.  James  Boswell, 


148  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

church,  for  I  went  early;  but  I  was  mistaken.  Gradually  a  large 
family  party  gathered.  .  .  .  There  was  a  good  deal  of  how-d'ye- 
doing  and  kissing  and  that  kind  of  thing,  before  the  word  was 
heard,  "  The  bride  is  coming." 

'  Dear  Bella  looked  nice  and  sweet,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  her 
father.  A  large  Honiton  lace  veil  fell  over  her  pure  white  silk 
dress  ;  her  lovely  hair  plaited,  instead  of  made  into  an  ugly  chignon, 
appeared  graceful  under  the  white  wreath,  from  which  a  spray 
drooped  down  her  neck.  I  did  not  think  the  bridesmaids  looking 
picturesque  ;  there  was  too  square  a  look  about  the  purple  trimming 
of  their  white  alpacas.  The  bridegroom  and  bride  stood  side  by 
side.  I  could  see  Bella's  profile  distinctly,  and  could  hear  every 
sentence,  both  when  James  and  when  she  repeated  their  vows.  .  .  . 
There  was  no  crying  that  I  could  see.  .  .  .  You  know  that  there  were 
eight  little  children  present,  four  little  boys  and  four  little  girls. 
Some  of  them  were  given  flowers  from  an  ornamental  basket,  to 
strew  in  the  path  of  the  bride,  as  her  husband  led  her  down  the 
aisle.' 

TO  MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

'■June  12,  1869. 

'  Sweet  Grandmamma  continues  much  the  same, — serene, — with- 
out pain,  not  exactly  ill,  but  so  delicate  that  she  is  still  carried  up 
and  down  stairs,  and  sees  none  of  the  family  but  Aunt  Clara  and 
myself,  and  only  a  little  of  me.  .  .  .  Dear  Grandmamma  sent  for 
me  while  I  was  writing  the  above  ;  and  to  my  surprise  I  found  her, 
pen  in  hand,  busy  with  a  note  to  welcome  Uncle  Willy.  I  am  much 
pleased  that  she  should  send  him  one,  though  I  should  not  have 
thought  of  asking  her  to  make  so  great  an  effort.  Of  course  the 
note  is  very  short.' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

^  July  10,  1869. 

'  My  heart  should  be  full  of  thankfulness,  for  to-day  dear  Aunt 
Fanny  was  able  to  pay  her  first  visit  here  to  see  Grandmamma. 
Uncle  and  Aunt  St.  George  ^  drove  her  here  in  their  pony-chaise  ; 
and  she  had  quite  enjoyed  the  drive.  I  thought  Aunt  Fanny 
decidedly  better  ;  but  dear  Grandmamma — who  has  scarcely  realised 
the  severity  of  her  late  illness, — said  to  me,  with  evident  disappoint- 

1  Mr.  St  George  Tucker  retired  this  year  (1869)  from  the  Indian  Civil  Service  ; 
and  his  sister  Fanny  was  at  this  time  paying  a  long  visit  to  him  and  his  wife. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  149 

ment,  "  I  was  surprised  to  see  my  own  Fanny  look  so  pallid.  I 
think  she  looks  worse  than  I  do."  This  is  true  ;  but  then  the  fact 
is  that  Grandmamma's  lovely  pink  and  white  complexion  often 
makes  her  look  stronger  than  she  is.  .  .  . 

'  Uncle  St.  George  has  given  me  such  a  lovely  piano-piece.  Grand- 
mamma likes  me  to  play  it  through  every  day,  or  I  should  be  in- 
clined to  lend  it  to  your  dearest  Mother.  It  would  remind  her  so 
of  the  dear  Ancient  Concerts,  the  delight  of  our  youth,  and  of  good 
old  Mrs.  Burrough.  It  is  Gliick's  music,  arranged  by  Calcott,  from 
Half-Hours  with  the  Best  Composers^  published  by  Lonsdale.  The 
piece  commences  with  the  delightful  chorus  of  Furies,  Cerberus 
barking,  etc.,  which  your  dear  Mother  may  remember. 

'  I  am  ashamed  of  such  an  untidy  scrawl  as  this.  I  do  not  know 
how  that  blot  on  the  first  page  made  its  appearance.  Of  course  the 
writer  was  not  to  blame  !  .  .  .  I  could  chat  much  longer  with  you, 
dear  one,  but  I  have  other  notes  to  write ;  and  my  pen,  or  ink,  or 
paper,  or  something  or  other,  will  go  wrong  to-night,  so  as  to  make 
the  act  of  writing  irksome,  as  well  as  the  note  untidy.' 

Another  heavy  blow,  not  less  heavy  because  sooner  or 
later  inevitable,  was  now  drawing  very  near.  Mrs.  Tucker, 
who  had  reached  the  age  of  eighty,  had  of  late  failed 
steadily  ;  and  Charlotte  must  have  seen  that  this  dear 
Mother  was  soon  to  pass  away  from  their  midst.  Before 
the  close  of  July  the  call  came ;  and  already  every  word 
that  she  spoke  was  treasured  up  by  her  daughter,  as  may 
be  seen  in  the  following  letter : — 

TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

''July  12,  1869. 

'  So  many  thanks  to  my  beloved  Laura  for  her  valuable  and 
gratifying  gift,  which  reaches  me  to-day.  Dear  Mother  has  heard 
your  sweet  music  twice  over  already,  and  both  she  and  Clara  admire 
it.  So  do  I.  I  wish  that  your  song  were  published,  that  more 
might  benefit  from  it.  I  am  pleased  that  you  occupy  yourself  in 
composing,  love.  I  dare  say  Mother  will  often  ask  for  her  Laura's 
song.     "  Is  not  she  a  darling  ?"  exclaimed  Mother  to-day. 

'  I  not  unfrequently  sing,  "  Hark,  my  soul,"  to  sweet  Mamma.  It 
is  better  to  go  over  and  over  the  same  than  to  give  much  variety, 
though  I  sometimes  sing  "  Rock  of  Ages "  also.     I  heard  Mother 


I50  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

saying  to  herself  one  day,  "Jesus  speaks,  and  speaks  to  me"  ;  and 
she  once  observed  of  that  hymn,  "  That  takes  one  to  heaven." 

'  Dear  Mother  is  much  the  same  ;  not  ill ;  with  no  fever,  no  pain  ; 
just  very  delicate  and  weak.  She  was  so  particularly  sweet  yester- 
day, Sunday.  She  looked  lovely  sitting  by  the  large  open  window, 
with  a  light  gauze  veil  to  keep  off  the  flies.  Mother  said  that  it 
had  been  "  a  holy  day  " — "  a  solemn  day," — and  twice  asked  me  to 
read  the  Bible  to  her.  .  .  .  Once  after  waking  she  observed  that 
she  felt  "between  Heaven  and  earth,"  Mother  has  repeatedly 
alluded  to  her  dream  of  being  in  Heaven  with  Mrs.  Thornhill ;  and 
often  talks  of  her  father, — "  such  a  holy  man  !  " 

'  She  said  yesterday,  "  I  have  been  dreaming."  I  observed,  "  I 
hope  they  were  pleasant  dreams."  "  Mostly  prayerful,"  was  her 
reply,  .  .  .  She  is  very  serene  and  peaceful,  which  is  such  a  mercy.' 

TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

''July  24,  1869, 
'  Beloved  Laura,  —So  tenderly  and  so  gently  the  Lord  has 
dealt  with  our  sweetest  Mother  !  She  woke  this  morning,  and  told 
Cousins  that  she  herself  had  slept  too  long.  There  was  a  slight 
feeling  of  sickness  about  eight,  which  made  Cousins  call  poor  Clara. 
In  about  an  hour  she  gently  fell  asleep.  .  .  .  No  pain  nor  even  con- 
sciousness at  the  last.  I  had  gone  to  London  on  business,  as  you 
know.  I  was  telegraphed  to  ;  but  ere  I  arrived  she — the  sweet,  the 
beloved — was  where  she  had  wished  to  be.  O  Laura,  Laura,  she 
has  long  been  drinking  the  dregs  of  life,  however  sweetened  by 
affection.  I  felt  for  her.  But  I  seem  as  if  I  could  hardly  write 
connectedly.  All  the  three  dear  brothers  have  been  here.  St.  George 
still  is  here.  Poor  dear  Fanny  also, — she  is  to  have  my  room,  for 
she  is  so  thankful  to  be  here.  We  have,  however,  only  been  allowed 
one  very  brief  glimpse  and  kiss  of  the  revered  remains.  Only 
remains,  my  Laura.  Think  of  her  bliss  !  She  is  not  here.  .  .  . 
Your  fond  C.   M.  T.' 

In  Charlotte's  desk,  kept  as  one  of  her  greatest  treasures, 
and  found  there,  years  later,  after  her  own  death,  was  the 
last  note  ever  written  to  her  by  Mrs.  Tucker.  It  con- 
tained these  words — '  My  precious  Charlotte,  you  have  been 
such  a  comfort  to  'tne  I '  No  wonder  the  loving  utterance 
was  treasured  up  by  the  daughter  through  the  rest  of  her 
life. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  151 

During  forty-eight  years  Charlotte  Tucker  had  known 
but  one  home — No.  3  Upper  Portland  Place.  Now  at 
length  in  her  forty-ninth  year  the  inevitable  family  break- 
up had  come ;  and  the  dear  home  of  her  infancy,  of  her 
girlhood,  of  her  middle  age,  could  be  hers  no  longer. 
No.  3  had  to  be  given  up  ;  and  the  sisters  had  to  go 
forth  into  fresh  scenes.  The  trial  must  to  all  of  them 
have  been  great ;  perhaps  least  so  to  the  gentle  Fanny, 
already  on  the  borderland  ojf  the  Life  beyond. 

As  a  first  move,  Charlotte  and  Fanny  went  together 
for  about  two  months  to  Sutton.  An  idea  had,  however, 
arisen  of  a  home,  at  least  for  a  time,  with  their  brother, 
Mr.  St.  George  Tucker,  and  his  wife  ;  and  the  next  step 
was  to  join  them  at  Wickhill,  Bracknell,  in  the  month  of 
September  1869.  This  was  Fanny's  last  move.  She  was 
taken  thither,  from  Sutton,  most  carefully  by  Charlotte, 
in  a  post-chaise  ;  and  the  long  drive  does  not  appear  to 
have  materially  affected  her.  Although  by  this  time 
wasted  to  skin  and  bone,  Fanny  still  kept  about  in  the 
house ;  spending  much  time  in  her  own  sitting-room, 
yet  often  coming  down  among  the  rest  for  a  short  time ; 
and  during  this  autumn  Charlotte  seems  to  have  chiefly 
devoted  herself  to  Fanny.  Before  the  close  of  November, 
however,  the  end  of  the  long  illness  was  reached. 

One  day,  when  speaking  to  her  brother,  in  allusion  to 
her  earlier  good  health  and  plumpness,  Fanny  observed  : 
*  My  dear  St.  George,  I  have  been  imprudent'  She  did 
not  specify  what  manner  of  imprudence  hers  had  been. 
Probably,  like  many  another  in  a  thoroughly  healthy 
family,  she  had  not  soon  enough  read  the  true  meaning 
of  suspicious  symptoms.  During  some  four  years  past 
she  had  been  steadily  failing ;  and  the  end  could  but  have 
been  a  joyous  release  to  one  so  ready  to  go. 

Thus  blow  upon  blow  had  fallen  between  the  years  of 
thirty  and  fifty  upon  the  golden  staff  of  Charlotte  Tucker's 


152  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Will.  Her  Father's  death  ;  the  death  of  Robert ;  the 
death  of  Letitia  ;  the  death  of  her  Mother  ;  the  death  of 
Fanny ;  all  these  one  after  another  make  a  list  of  sorrows. 
Doubtless,  the  most  keen  and  bitter  losses  which  she  had 
to  endure  were,  above  all,  the  death  of  her  almost  idolised 
Father,  and  the  death  of  Letitia.  No  other  pain  would 
equal  these,  dearly  as  she  loved  her  brother  Robert,  her 
Mother,  and  Fanny,  until  her  own  peculiar  sister-friend, 
Laura  Hamilton,  should  be  summoned  away.  Mercifully, 
that  blow  was  not  allowed  to  fall  until  a  very  short  time 
before  her  own  call  Home. 

Charlotte  was  not  crushed  by  these  sorrows.  This  is 
plainly  to  be  seen.  Although  the  wild  spirits  and  abound- 
ing glee  of  her  childhood  were  toned  down,  she  was  still 
active,  still  buoyant,  still  able  to  enjoy  life.  She  sorrowed, 
but  by  no  means  as  one  without  hope  ;  and  if  her  life 
was  shadowed,  it  had  not  lost  its  spring.  As  time  went 
by,  the  spirit  of  fun  and  mirthfulness  revived  ;  and  the 
little  ones  in  her  new  home  could  not  fail  to  be  a  fresh 
delight  to  one  who  so  greatly  loved  children.  Even  the 
earlier  letters  after  her  Mother's  death  are  not  only  calm 
but  cheerful. 

TO   MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

'Aug.  23,  1869. 

'  I  cannot  help  hoping  very  sincerely  that  Uncle  St.  G.  may  find 
a  house  near  Bracknell,  large  enough  to  hold  Aunt  Fanny  and 
myself,  as  well  as  his  own  party.  Would  it  not  be  nice?  But  I 
am  rather  guarded  about  setting  my  heart  on  anything  of  the  sort. 
Aunt  Fanny  would  like  it  very  much.  ...  It  would  be  like  a  haven 
to  me.  I  think  I  know  one  young  maiden  who  would  not  be  sorry 
to  have  her  old  godmother  within  reach  of  a  walk.  But  I  am 
quietly  waiting  to  see  how  things  are  arranged  for  me.  ...  I  have 
to  manage  things  for  Aunt  Fanny,  as  well  as  for  myself,  just  as  if 
I  were  her  husband.  It  is  very  new  work  to  me.  I  am  not,  like 
your  dear  Mother,  accustomed  to  think  and  arrange  about  a  mass 
of  property.' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  153 

TO  THE  SAME. 

'Dec.  2,  1869. 

'  I  hope  that  my  sweet  Leila  has  not  thought  me  unmindful  of 
her  loving  sympathy  because  I  have  not  thanked  her  before  for 
her  note.  I  am  sure  that  you  have  heard  of  us  from  your  beloved 
Mother,  who  so  tenderly  shared  my  watch  by  the  bedside  of  my 
heart's  sister.  O  Leila  dear,  does  not  such  a  peaceful,  holy  departure 
show  us  that  our  Lord  has  indeed  taken  the  sting  from  death  ? 
Without  Him,  how  terrible  would  be  the  dark  Unknown  ! — with 
Him,  how  bright  is  the  valley  ! 

'Sweet  Aunt  Fanny  quoted  to  me  not  long  ago,  I  suppose  in 
reference  to  departure, — "  When  Thou  wilt ;  where  Thou  wilt ;  how 
Thou  wilt  !"  I  think  that  the  last  chapter  which  I  read  to  her  was 
Romans  viii.  It  is  such  a  long  chapter,  that  I  stopped  at  about 
the  25th  verse,  fearing  to  tire  the  dear  invalid  ;  but  she  made  me 
finish  the  chapter. 

'  I  went  out  of  the  drawing-room  window  before  sunrise  to-day, 
to  gather  flowers  to  make  into  wreaths.  The  gardener  had  not 
opened  the  greenhouse ;  but  I  found  much  more  than  I  should 
have  expected  in  the  beginning  of  December, — even  rosebuds. 
The  ferns  look  lovely  still.  A  i^^  days  ago  I  made  a  wreath  of 
myrtle.  I  thought  it  like  an  emblem  of  my  own  sweet  sister ; 
sweetest  when  bruised  ;  with  an  unfading  leaf ;  and  a  white,  simple- 
looking,  yet  lovely  blossom. 

'  Good-night,  my  Leila.  May  the  Almighty  make  you,  my  dear 
Godchild,  as  unselfish,  conscientious,  and  lowly  as  was  the  loved 
one  by  whose  grave  I  am  to  stand  to-morrow.' 

Although  the  plan  of  living  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  St. 
George  Tucker  was  at  no  time  regarded  as  a  permanent 
arrangement  for  the  remainder  of  Charlotte  Tucker's  life, 
yet  it  actually  lasted  six  years.  For  about  eight  months 
from  September  1869  they  all  remained  at  Wickhill.  In 
1870  they  removed  to  Windlesham,  in  Surrey;  and  in 
the  following  year,  1871,  they  again  moved  to  'Woodlands,' 
at  Binfield  in  Berkshire,  nine  miles  or  so  from  Reading, 
and  only  about  two  and  a  half  miles  from  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hamilton's  home,  Firlands,  near  Bracknell.  Charlotte 
had,  therefore,  from  that  time  not  only  the  interest  of  her 


154  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

little  nephew  and  two  little  nieces  in  the  house,  but  also 
of  her  sister  Laura's  children  within  three  miles.  The 
companionship  of  a  very  favourite  brother  and  of  his 
affectionate  wife,  together  with  these  little  ones,  work 
among  the  poor,  writing,  and  many  other  occupations, 
made  her  life  still  a  busy  and  a  bright  one. 

In  one  letter  written  to  a  niece  from  Firlands,  in  1870, 
she  describes  *the  rural  seclusion  of  this  lovely  place. 
I  am  charmed  with  Firlands,  and  the  groves  of  fragrant 
pine  in  which  I  wander  every  morning.'  In  another  letter, 
dated  February  1871,  she  says:  'I  hasten  to  give  you 
the  good  news  that  Uncle  St.  George  has  taken  "  Wood- 
lands" for  seven  years.  I  am  so  glad,  and  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  be  so  also.'  This  was  to  her  Godchild. 
Thus  she  entered  upon  the  final  stage  of  her  English 
life.  Before  the  close  of  those  seven  years  Charlotte 
Tucker  was  in  India. 

The  following  extracts  from  letters  belong  all  to  the 
two  or  three  years  after  her  Mother's  death : — 

TO  MISS   LAURA  V.   TUCKER.^ 

''Feb.  10,  1870. 

'  I  took  Sir  Frederick  and  Lady  Abbott  2  to-day  to  the  Infant  School 
at  Bracknell.  They  seemed  to  be  much  pleased,  and  so  I  am  sure 
were  the  Infants,  as  their  visitors  treated  them  with  sugar-plums  and 
lemon-cakes,  in  return  for  a  number  of  songs.  ...  A  translation  of 
my  War  and  Peace  has  been  made  by  Madame  de  Lambert,  and  is 
coming  out  in  the  Musee  des  Enfants^ — under  the  name,  I  believe,  of 
Le  So  Mat  Aveugle.^ 

TO  THE   SAME. 


*A  lady  was  here  the  other  day,  who  has  a  curious   taste  for 
different  creatures.     She  has  had  a  slow-worm  round  her  arm  as  a 

1  Daughter  of  A.  L.  O.  E.'s  brother,  Mr.  William  Tucker. 

2  Father  and  Mother  of  Mrs.  St.  G.  Tucker. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  155 

bracelet — has  kept  an  oyster  which  seemed  to  know  her— and  taught 
frogs  to  come  out  of  the  water  at  the  sound  of  their  names.  One  day, 
when  she  was  quite  young,  she  showed  an  old  gentleman  one  of  her 
dear  snakes,  coiled  up.  He  thought  it  an  imitation-one,  and  said 
something  about  good  imitations, — when  the  reptile  began  to  hiss  at 
him. 

' "  O  you  horrid  girl,  it 's  alive  ! "  exclaimed  the  poor  old 
gentleman,  forgetting  his  politeness  in  his  sudden  alarm  and 
disgust. 

'  Baby  is  now  thriving  nicely,  and  getting  quite  fat.  It  is  funny  to 
see  her  looking  at  the  picture  of  the  white  kittens  and  cherries.  She 
gets  quite  excited,  trying  to  clutch  hold  of  the  cherries  with  her  tiny 
hands.' 

TO   MISS    'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

'May  12,  1871. 

'  Many  thanks,  my  sweet  Leila,  for  your  affectionate  letter,  and  also 
for  your  kindness  in  going  to  see  Sarah  Jones. 

'  My  darling  Letitia  !  Notwithstanding  all  that  has  passed  since 
she  was  last  pressed  to  my  heart,  the  sudden  blow  of  her  loss  has 
left,  I  think,  a  deeper  scar  than  any  trial  before  or  after  it.  I  seldom 
mention  her  name  ;  and  now  my  heart  seems  rising  into  my  throat  as 
I  write  of  her.  .  .  . 

'  I  feel  tired,  dear  one,  so  will  not  write  a  long  letter.  I  had  a  long 
business  walk  before  luncheon,  and  then  the  overland  letter  to  Uncle 
Willy  to  write,  and  a  great  deal  of  proof-sheet  of  the  Lady  of 
Provence  to  correct.' 

TO   MRS.   J.    BOSWELL. 

''Nov.  13,  1872. 

'  I  am  very  busy,  for  there  seems  an  almost  endless  field  for  work 
in  making  foreign  wall-texts  ;  quite  a  new  occupation  for  me.  In 
Italy  and  Spain  they  will  now  be  warmly  welcomed, — India,  Syria, 
China,  Labrador,  all  offer  openings.  I  feel  it  so  gracious  in  my  dear 
Master  to  give  me  this  little  work  for  Him,  now  that  the  power 
of  composing  seems  to  be  taken  away.  I  find  delight  in  going  over 
and  over  the  precious  texts,  which  I  have  to  copy  in  various  tongues. 
I  do  not  think  that  I  ever  before  so  realised  their  sweetness.  I  tried 
to  gild  my  own  little  works  with  Scripture  truths  ;  but  now  I  have 


156  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

pure  gold  to  give  to  others, — without  admixing  with  it  any  alloy  of 
my  own.' 

For  awhile  at  about  this  time  she  seems  to  have  lost 
almost  entirely  her  power  of  writing  ;  the  failure  being  no 
doubt  due  to  the  state  of  her  health,  or  to  re-action  from 
the  strain  of  all  that  she  had  gone  through  in  past  years. 
She  therefore  spent  many  an  hour  in  painting  texts  in 
different  foreign  languages,  on  a  large  scale,  to  be  sent 
abroad. 

The  sacred  poem  which  closes  this  chapter  was  written 
in  the  summer  of  187 1.  It  appeared  in  a  little  volume, 
called  ^  LLyinns  and  Poems  I  by  A.  L.  O.  E. 


A  DREAM  OF  THE  SECOND  ADVENT. 

'  I  dreamed  that  in  the  stilly  hush  of  night — 
Deep  midnight — I  was  startled  from  my  sleep 
By  a  clear  sound  as  of  a  trumpet !     Loud 
It  swelled,  and  louder,  thrilling  every  nerve. 
Making  the  heart  beat  wildly,  strangely,  till 
All  other  senses  seemed  in  hearing  lost. 
Up  from  my  couch  I  sprang  in  trembling  haste. 
Cast  on  my  garments,  wondering  to  behold 
Through  half-closed  shutters  sudden  radiance  gleam, 
More  clear,  more  vivid  than  the  glare  of  day. 
What  marvel,  then,  that  with  a  breathless  hope 
That  gave  me  wings,  forth  from  my  home  I  rushed, 
Though  heaved  the  earth  as  if  instinct  with  life, 
Its  very  dust  awakening.     Can  it  be — 
Is  this  the  call,  "Behold  the  Bridegroom  comes  !" 
Comes  He,  the  long-expected,  long-desired? 
Crowds  thronged  the  street,  with  every  face  upturned, 
Gazing  into  the  sky, — the  flaming  sky — 
Where  every  cloud  was  like  a  throne  of  light. 
None  could  look  back,  not  even  to  behold 
If  those  beloved  were  nigh  ;  one  thrilling  thought 
Rapt  all  the  multitude,—"  Can  HE  be  near.?" 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  i$7 

Then  cries  of  terror  rose—  I  scarcely  heard  ; 

And  buildings  shook  and  rocked,  and  crashing  fell, — 

I  scarcely  marked  their  fall ;  the  trembling  ground 

Rose  like  the  billowy  sea, — I  scarcely  felt 

The  motion  ;  such  intensity  of  hope — 

Joy — expectation — flooded  all  my  soul  ; 

A  tide  of  living  light,  o'erwhelming  all 

The  hopes  and  fears,  the  cares  and  woes  of  earth. 

Could  any  doubt  remain  ?     Lo  !  from  afar 

A  sound  of  "  Hallelujah  ! "     Ne'er  before 

Had  mortal  ear  drunk  in  such  heavenly  strain, 

Save  when  on  Bethlehem's  plain  the  shepherds  heard 

The  music  of  the  skies. 

Behold  !  Behold  ! 
Like  white-winged  angels  rise  the  radiant  throng 
That  from  yon  cemetery's  gloomy  verge 
Have  burst,  immortal — glorious — undefiled  ! 
Bright  as  the  sun  their  crowns  celestial  shine, 
Yet  I  behold  them  with  undazzled  eye. 
Oh  that  yon  glittering  canopy  of  light 
Would  burst  asunder,  that  I  might  behold 
Him,  whom  so  long,  not  seeing,  I  have  loved  ! 
It  parted — lo  !  it  opened — as  I  stood 

With  clasped  hands  stretched  towards  Heaven  ;  my  eager  gaze 
Fixed  on  the  widening  glory  ! 

Suddenly, 
As  if  the  burden  of  the  flesh  no  more 
Could  fetter  down  the  aspiring  soul  to  earth, 
As  if  the  fleshly  nature  were  consumed — 
Lost  in  the  glowing  ecstasy  of  love — 
I  soared  aloft,  I  mounted  through  the  air. 
Free  as  a  spirit,  rose  to  meet  my  Lord, 
With  such  a  cry  of  rapture — that  I  woke  ! 

'  O  misery  !  to  wake  in  darkness,  wake 
From  vision  of  unutterable  joy  ; 
Instead  of  trumpet-sound  and  song  of  Heaven, 
To  hear  the  dull  clock  measuring  out  time, 
When  I  had  seemed  to  touch  Eternity  ! 
In  the  first  pang  of  disappointed  hope, 
I  wept  that  I  could  wake  from  such  a  dream  ; 


158    LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

Until  Faith  gently  whispered,  "Wherefore  weep 
To  lose  the  faint  dim  shadow  of  a  joy 
Of  which  the  substance  shall  one  day  be  thine  ? 
Live  in  the  hope, — that  hope  shall  brighten  life, 
And  sanctify  it  to  its  highest  end." 

*  Fast  roll  the  chariot  wheels  of  Time.     HE  comes  ! 
The  Spirit  and  the  Bride  expectant  wait, — 
Even  so  come,  Lord  Jesus  !     Saviour — come  ! ' 


CEtAPTER    XIII 

VARIOUS  CHARACTERISTICS 

In  the  last  few  chapters  we  have  had  glimpses  of 
Charlotte  Tucker's  life  rather  from  within  than  from 
without ;  chiefly  in  reference  to  her  successive  losses,  and  her 
own  feelings  connected  with  those  losses  or  with  passing 
events.  Now  we  will  try  to  obtain  a  few  glimpses  of  her, 
rather  from  without  than  from  within;  to  see  her  as 
others  saw  her,  not  so  much  as  she  saw  herself  I  do  not 
for  a  moment  mean  to  imply  that  the  two  views  must  be 
antagonistic.  The  view  of  a  castle  from  within  and  the 
view  of  that  same  castle  from  without  are  totally  different ; 
yet  they  are  not  in  the  least  antagonistic.  The  one  is  as 
true  as  the  other. 

In  doing  this  it  has  to  be  remembered  that  A.  L,  O.  E. 
was  a  many-sided  and  to  some  extent  a  complex  nature. 
Hers  was  not  a  character  to  be  lightly  sketched  in  a  dozen 
lines.  Probably  no  character  of  any  human  being  can  be 
satisfactorily  so  disposed  of;  and  there  are  complexities 
in  the  very  simplest  nature.  But  the  main  outlines  of 
some  people  are  more  easily  perceived,  more  '  consistent ' 
according  to  popular  notions  of  character-consistency, 
than  the  main  outlines  of  some  other  people  ;  merely 
because  they  happen  to  embrace  fewer  opposites.  There 
were  a  good  many  opposites  in  the  character  of  Charlotte 
Tucker. 

All    people    did    not    see    her    exactly    alike, — partly 

159 


i6o  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

because  of  necessity  they  looked  upon  her  with  different 
eyes,  and  partly  because  of  necessity  she  was  not  the 
same  in  her  manifestations  to  all  of  them.  Being  a  many- 
sided  individual,  one  side  of  her  became  prominent  to  one 
person,  another  side  became  prominent  to  another  person. 
While  one  friend  remembers  vividly  her  spirit  of  ardent 
devotion,  and  another  recalls  especially  her  work  among  the 
poor,  a  third  pictures  her  sparkling  conversation,  a  fourth 
her  spirited  games  of  play  with  children.  While  one  has 
the  strongest  impression  of  her  resolute  sternness,  her  horror 
of  evil  and  self-indulgence,  another  cannot  speak  warmly 
enough  of  her  intense  unselfishness  and  her  unlimited 
kindness,  and  yet  another  smiles  over  the  remembrance  of 
her  irrepressible  fun.  All  these  things  were  included  in 
her ;  but  naturally  not  all  these  things  were  equally 
apparent  at  all  times,  or  to  everybody  who  knew  her. 

Nor  need  it  be  supposed  that  Charlotte  Tucker  was  a 
being  all  light,  with  no  shadows.  She  was  thoroughly 
human.  There  were  shadows  of  course, — what  else  could 
one  expect  ? — and  she  had  many  and  many  a  hard  fight,  not 
in  girlhood  only,  but  all  through  life,  to  overcome  her  faults. 

Again,  it  is  not  claimed  for  Charlotte  that  everybody 
who  crossed  her  path  loved  her.  We  do  read  in  certain 
little  books,  of  a  particular  calibre,  about  angelic  heroines 
who  were  invariably  worshipped  by  everybody  in  their 
small  world,  without  a  single  exception.  This,  how- 
ever, is,  to  say  the  least,  uncommon  ;  and  with  one  of 
Charlotte  Tucker's  strong  personality  it  would  be  all  but 
impossible.  A  very  wide  circle  did  most  heartily  esteem 
and  admire  her,  did  most  dearly  love  her.  But  of  course 
there  were  exceptions.  In  the  course  of  her  life  some  few 
with  whom  she  was  thrown  failed  ever  to  come  within  the 
grasp  of  her  affectionate  influence.  But  this  was  only 
natural.  Everybody  is  not  made  to  exactly  suit  every- 
body else. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  i6i 

Among  some  of  her  most  marked  features  were  an  in- 
tense vigour  and  energy,  an  extraordinary  force  and  vitality, 
together  with  great  eagerness  in  whatever  she  undertook,  and 
a  burning  desire  to  be  useful  in  her  age  and  generation. 
She  was  very  resolute;  very  persevering;  very  affectionate; 
reserved,  yet  demonstrative ;  untidy,  yet  methodical ;  ex- 
ceedingly anxious  for  the  happiness  of  all  around ;  apt  often 
to  think  people  better  than  they  really  were ;  generous  to  a 
fault ;  unselfishly  ready  at  all  times  to  put  her  own  wishes, 
aside ;  vehement  and  impulsive,  yet  never  in  a  hurry  or 
flurry  ;  unyielding,  yet  tender  ;  severe,  yet  frisky. 

Of  course  there  were  other  natural  characteristics   of 
a  different  kind  ;  weaknesses  not  wholly  mastered  ;  faults 
not  entirely  conquered.     She  was  not  perfect, — who  is? 
The   strength   of  determination   would   occasionally  run 
into  obstinacy ;    the   resolute   manner   could    be   a   trifle 
dictatorial ;  the  very  wish  to  help  and  please  others  might 
be  carried   out  in   a  way  which  did  not  gratify.      With 
all  her  exceeding  kindness,  hers  could  hardly  be  described 
as   the   true   sympathetic  temperament.      Opinions   here 
vary  a  good  deal  among  the  friends  that  knew  her  best ; 
but  those  who  at  different  periods  of  her  life  lived  for  any 
length  of  time  under  the  same  roof,  will  be  able  to  recall 
certain  instances  of  an  absence  of  tact,  a  lack  of  quick  under- 
standing of  the  feelings  of  others,  which  certainly  never 
arose  from  want  of  a  desire  to  understand.     She  had  any 
amount  of  heart,  of  pity,  of  thought,  to  bestow  ;  but  while 
feeling  fully  for  others,  she  could  not  readily  so  place 
herself  in  the  position  of  others  as  to  feel  entirely  with 
them,  to  see  matters  from  their  standpoint  and  not  from 
her  own.     The  highest  form  of  sympathy  is  a  rare  and 
subtle  gift ;  and  it  can  scarcely  be   said    that  Charlotte 
possessed  this  gift.     Still,  if  any  one  did  bring  a  burden 
or  a  trouble  to  her,  she  would  spare  no  pains  to  help  and 
to  comfort  to  the  utmost  of  her  power. 
L 


i62  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

One  direction  in  which  she  showed  through  life  a 
marked  deficiency  was  in  the  housekeeping  Hne.  Both 
early  and  late  she  had  always  an  intense  dislike  and  dread 
of  housekeeping.  Whatever  else  she  undertook,  that  was 
if  possible  a  thing  to  be  avoided ;  and  it  seems  to  have 
been  an  understood  matter  between  her  friends  and 
herself  that  anybody  rather  than  Charlotte  Tucker  might 
be  housekeeper.  Probably  she  had  an  innate  sense  of 
want  of  power,  an  innate  consciousness  that  she  could  not 
do  the  task  efficiently.  If  compelled  to  attempt  it  as  a 
duty,  she  would  not  refuse ;  but  she  never  took  to  the 
occupation,  or  overcame  her  dislike. 

Moreover,  the  gift  of  nursing  was  not  hers.  Although 
in  a  threatening  case  of  scarlet  fever  she  could  be  the  first 
to  offer  herself  as  nurse,  with  entire  unconcern  about  the 
infection ;  although  she  shared  with  others  the  watch 
beside  Fanny's  dying  bed,  and  later  on  the  watch  beside 
Mr.  Hamilton's ;  yet  she  repeatedly  speaks  of  herself  as 
no  nurse,  and  alludes  to  her  own  want  of  experience. 
Experience  no  doubt  she  might  have  had,  before  the  age 
of  fifty,  had  her  natural  bent  lain  at  all  in  the  direction 
of  nursing ;  but  the  necessary  gifts  were  not  hers.  She 
had  not  the  reposeful  air,  the  placid  voice  and  manner, 
above  all,  the  ready  tact,  which  for  good  nursing  are 
essential.  Self-indulgence,  laziness,  cowardliness  were 
unknown  factors  in  her  existence,  and  could  never  have 
held  her  back ;  but  here  too  there  was  probably  an  innate 
sense  of  lack  of  power ;  and  here  too  she  never  through 
life  took  to  the  occupation,  'as  to  the  manner  born.'  It 
is  noticeable  also  that,  frequently  as  she  would  offer  her 
services  in  times  of  illness,  these  offers  were  seldom 
accepted.  Others  doubtless  knew  as  well  as  she  knew 
it  herself  that  nursing  was  not  in  her  line. 

Somewhat  late  in  life,  when  a  friend,  after  hours  of 
hard  study,  was  endeavouring  to  rest,  with  a  severe  head- 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  163 

ache,  Charlotte  would  bring  her  guitar,  sit  near,  and 
sing  and  play  to  the  sufferer.  A  gentle  protestation  was 
of  no  avail ;  for  so  sure  was  she  of  her  remedy,  that  she 
only  supposed  her  friend  to  shrink  from  giving  her  trouble, 
and  the  music  went  on  unchecked.  This — which  happened 
repeatedly — was  done  with  the  kindest  and  most  loving 
intentions.  Charlotte  was  devotedly  fond  of  music,  and 
she  did  not  herself  suffer  from  headaches.  But  it  is  an 
instance  of  the  want  of  tact  occasionally  shown  in  small 
matters.  The  will  to  do  good  and  to  help  others  was 
abundantly  present ;  only  she  did  not  always  find  the 
right  mode. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten,  however,  that,  whatever  her 
natural  disqualifications  for  the  part  of  a  nurse  might  have 
been,  she  did  in  her  old  age  so  far  overcome  them  as 
often  to  take  a  share  in  tending  the  '  brown  boys '  of  the 
Batala  High  School  when  ill,  in  a  manner  which  won  their 
loving  gratitude,  although  she  did  not  prove  successful 
as  a  nurse  to  English  invalids. 

One  who  knew  her  intimately  has  written  the  following 
short  sketch,  which  is  well  worth  quoting  verbatim  : — 

'  I  think  one  marked  point,  physical  and  mental,  in  her,  was  her 
tireless  energy.  Her  very  walk  was  indicative  of  this  ;  the  elastic 
springiness  of  every  step.  Also  of  another  point  in  her  character, 
stern  determination, — the  resolute  folding  in  of  her  arms  and  hands, 
as  she  paced  along  a  road  or  up  and  down  a  garden, — drawing 
herself  up  to  her  full  height  the  while,  with  sparkling  eye  and 
compressed  lips.  She  was  teeming  with  life  and  energy  ; — whether 
it  were  over  her  favourite  chess,  when  she  would  wait  patiently  but 
eagerly,  thinking  out  each  move ;  or  enjoying  the  small-talk  of 
society,  watching  faces  and  reading  characters,  to  treasure  them  up 
for  painting  in  one  of  her  forthcoming  volumes  ;  or  teaching  a  niece 
the  beauties  of  sound  and  thought  in  the  Italian  of  Dante  ;  .or  playing 
at  some  game  of  thought  with  young  people ;  or  reading  aloud  one 
of  her  two  favourite  dearly-loved  and  untiringly-studied  authors, 
Shakespeare  and  Bos  well's  Lt/e  of  Johnson.  She  was  very  sociable, 
lively,  and  threw  her  whole  heart  into  the  kindly  entertaining  of 


i64  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

guests  of  all  ages.  Her  eldest  brother  used  to  be  very  much  struck 
with  the  unselfish  way  in  which  she  bore  any  interruptions  and  calls 
upon  her  time.  Even  in  the  midst  of  her  literary  work,  she  would  at 
once  rise,  leave  it,  and  give  her  whole  attention  to  any  subject  an 
incomer  might  wish  to  speak  to  her  about. 

'  Clever  and  stern,  she  was  not  one  to  be  trifled  with.  Purpose 
seemed  woven  into  all  her  liveliness  ;  and  she  tried  to  keep  others  up 
to  her  level.' 

Another  writes,  in  reference  to  the  time  when  A.  L.  O.  E. 
was  living  at  Birch  Hall,  Windlesham,  with  her  brother 
and  his  family,  in  1870: — 

'  I  had  just  arrived  on  a  visit,  and  she  came  into  the  drawing-room, 
kissed  me,  and  said,  "  I  am  Aunt  Charlotte."  She  was  not  good- 
looking,  but  was  always  full  of  life.  Her  ready  wit  and  charming 
conversational  powers  made  her  a  welcome  guest  everywhere,  and 
made  many  a  dinner-party  at  her  brother's  house  go  off  well.  .  .  .  She 
was  always  thinking  of  others,  and  seemed  to  count  time  spent 
on  herself  wasted. 

'  I  well  remember  a  time  when  I  longed  to  see  Windsor  and  the 
Queen  ;  and  Aunt  Charlotte  immediately  said  she  was  longing  for 
the  same  thing,  and  gladly  undertook  to  pioneer  an  expedition.  I 
was  far  from  strong,  but  could  not  wait  for  lunch  in  my  anxiety  to 
have  a  good  place  at  the  railway  station,  to  see  Her  Majesty  arrive. 
Having  seen  me  and  my  young  cousin  safely  placed.  Aunt  C.  dis- 
appeared, and  after  a  while  made  her  way  through  the  crowd,  laden 
with  cakes  for  us  all,  finally  producing  a  glass  of  claret  for  me  from 
under  her  cloak,  which  I  was  obliged  to  take  then  and  there.  Her 
enthusiastic  loyalty  made  her  enjoy  the  sight,  no  novel  one  to  her,  of 
our  dear  Queen,  as  much  as  any  of  us. 

'Our  evenings  owed  much  of  their  brightness  to  her  presence. 
She  could  sing, — sometimes  lively  little  songs,  accompanying  herself 
with  the  guitar.  Her  ear  for  music  was  so  correct,  that  on  one 
occasion  she  came  downstairs  from  her  room,  to  tell  me  I  had  played 
a  wrong  note  in  a  chord  of  Beethoven,  and  the  exact  note  I  should 
have  played. 

'Sometimes  she  thought  of  games  for  us.  One  was  called 
"  Statues."  We  each  had  to  pose  as  a  statue,  suggestive  of  some 
subject,  such  as  Melancholy,  Joy,  Fear,  etc.  Whilst  she,  personating 
a  visitor  to  the  sculpture  studio,  would  try  to  upset  our  gravity  by  her 
amusing  remarks  on  the  statues.  .  .  .  She  also  invented  a  geography 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  165 

game  for  us,  providing  us  with  skeleton  maps,  and  small  round 
counters,  on  which  the  names  of  towns  were  printed.  As  these  were 
drawn  and  the  name  called  out,  we  had  to  claim  them  and  give  them 
their  places  on  the  map.  Whoever  had  a  map  filled  in  first  was  the 
winner.  .  .  .  Sometimes  we  read  Shakespeare  together,  each  of  us 
taking  a  part.  .  .  . 

'  I  think  things  were  only  a  trouble  to  her  when  she  had  to  do 
them  for  herself.  Nothing  was  a  trouble  if  it  helped  another.  .  .  . 
Work  for  the  Master  whom  she  loved  was  her  animating  motive.  .  .  . 
She  was,  I  think,  the  most  unselfish  character  I  ever  knew.  She  lived 
for  others  ;  whether  in  the  great  work  of  her  life,  the  use  of  her  pen, 
the  proceeds  of  which  went  to  fill  her  charity  purse,  or  in  the  simple 
act  of  leaving  her  quiet  room,  on  a  dull,  rainy  afternoon,  to  play  a 
bright  country  dance  or  Scotch  reel,  and  set  the  little  ones  dancing  to 
vent  their  superfluous  spirits.' 

These  slight  recollections  are  from  the  pen  of  one 
among  her  numerous  adopted  nieces. 

Another  niece,  not  adopted  but  real,  says : — 

'  I  think  the  first  thought  that  would  have  occurred  to  any  stranger, 
as  regards  her  appearance,  was  the  peculiar  fashion  of  her  dress.  I 
remember  her  in  the  days  of  crinolines,  standing  straight  and  dignified 
in  her  plain  dress,  without  the  least  attempt  at  fulness  in  the  skirt.  I 
should  think  it  must  have  been  always  so  ;  her  individuality  and 
disregard  of  the  world's  opinion  were  so  strongly  marked.' 

This  question  of  dress  does  not  appear  to  have  become 
a  matter  of  principle  with  her.  She  was  simply  indepen- 
dent, and  utterly  careless  of  what  might  be  said.  She 
had  not  by  nature  the  art  of  dressing  well,  and  she 
'thought  it  a  bother/  As  observed  by  one  of  her 
brothers,  *  Charlotte  never  cared  what  she  put  on.  She 
never  had  the  art  of  amalgamating  the  different  parts 
of  her  dress  ! '  In  plain  terms,  her  taste  in  dress  was  not 
good,  and  she  did  not  take  trouble  to  improve  it.  Nor 
had  she  the  knack  of  putting  on  to  advantage  what  she 
wore.  Things  that  would  have  looked  well  upon  another 
did  not  look  well  upon  her. 

Caps  were   a   trouble,  and   she  was  most  grateful   to 


i66  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

any  one  who  made  her  a  present  of  a  cap.  She  could 
not  make  nice  ones  for  herself,  and  she  disliked  the  style 
of  bought  caps. 

One  little  story  of  middle  life  days  at  No.  3  illustrates 
her  indifference  to  what  she  wore.  A  friend  was  staying 
in  the  house,  to  go  to  a  wedding ;  and  when  the  time 
came  her  bonnet  had  not  arrived.  Old  Mrs.  Tucker, 
knowing  that  Charlotte  possessed  a  new  bonnet,  and 
knowing  also  that  there  was  no  fear  of  vexing  Charlotte 
by  the  act,  lent  this  new  bonnet  to  the  friend,  to  be  worn 
at  the  wedding.  Charlotte  was  then  absent.  But  meeting 
the  friend,  either  at  the  wedding  or  afterwards,  she  noticed 
the  bonnet,  failed  to  recognise  her  own  property,  and  most 
innocently  begged  to  apologise  for  remarking  what  a 
particularly  pretty  bonnet  it  was  ! 

She  had  unconsciously  a  good  deal  of  manner,  and 
used  certain  gestures,  which  either  were  natural,  or  through 
long  habit  had  become  a  part  of  herself.  One  trick  of 
manner  was  that  of  clasping  her  hands,  as  an  expression 
of  certain  feelings ;  also  her  head  was  apt  very  often  to 
be  slightly  on  one  side.  Seeing  a  young  girl,  upon 
Sunday,  busily  engaged  in  copying  music,  Charlotte 
Tucker  sat  down  and  looked  earnestly,  with  her  head  a 
little  on  one  side.  *  People  have  different  ideas  about 
occupations  for  Sunday,'  she  remarked  at  length.  '  I, 
for  instance,  would  not  copy  music  on  a  Sunday.'  The 
hint,  pleasantly  given,  was  at  once  gracefully  taken,  and 
the  music  was  put  aside. 

Another  time  this  same  young  girl  had  been  confessing 
herself  very  much  of  a  coward,  and  regretting  the  fact. 

*  Oh,  never  mind,'  was  Charlotte  Tucker's  consoling  reply. 

*  Some  day,  when  there  is  real  danger,  you  '11  flash  out ! ' 
Perhaps  she  was  thinking  of  the  scene  in  one  of  her  own 
little  books,  when  a  timid  young  governess  confronts  an 
escaped  panther. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  167 

Once  a  young  girl,  at  table,  being  vexed  by  words  said 
in  depreciation  of  a  near  relative,  showed  her  feelings  very 
decisively.  A.  L.  O.  E.  afterwards  put  her  arms  round  the 
girl,  and  said,  *  Quite  right,  my  dear ! ' 

Again,  she  had  a  mode  of  crossing  her  hands  upon 
her  chest,  with  a  meditative  air.  Many  recall  this  attitude 
as  peculiarly  characteristic  of  her.  If  she  were  thinking 
deeply,  her  hands  would  instinctively  take  that  position. 

She  was  very  warm-hearted,  and,  as  one  has  said,  liked 
'to  make  you  happy  and  pleased  with  yourself.'  Ever 
eager  to  see  the  best  in  everybody,  she  wore  rose-coloured 
spectacles  which  now  and  then  would  lead  her  into  think- 
ing of  people  much  better  than  they  deserved,  and 
'disillusionment'  had  to  be  gone  through.  Always 
endeavouring  to  see  the  best,  she  often  saw  more  than 
the  best ;  and  small  harm  if  she  did.  At  least  she  ensured 
thus  the  making  of  mistakes  on  the  right  side,  instead 
of  on  the  wrong.  The  common  tendency  is  so  very  much 
the  other  way.  The  romantic  side  of  Charlotte's  nature 
would  interfere  with  her  judgment,  and  the  impulsive  first 
view  would  be  erroneous.  When  she  had  had  time  for 
calm  thought  she  generally  worked  her  way  to  a  sensible 
view  of  a  question.  But  the  tendency  to  over-estimation 
of  others  continued  through  life,  and  was  perhaps  especi- 
ally to  be  marked  in  her  Indian  Missionary  work. 

In  her  religious  opinions  she  was  a  warm  Church- 
woman,  belonging  to  the  '  Evangelical '  school  of  thought. 
As  she  grew  older,  however,  she  became  more  and  more 
large-hearted  towards  those  from  whom  she  differed  on 
minor  points,  more  and  more  ready  to  hold  out  a  kind 
hand  of  friendship  on  all  sides.  This  side  of  her  appeared 
more  distinctly,  and  developed  more  markedly,  in  India, 
than  in  her  secluded  English  home. 

Both  at  No.  3,  and  in  her  brother's  house,  she  was  wont 
to  read  aloud  her  own  stories  to  her  young  nephews  and 


i68  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

nieces,  for  the  sake  of  their  'criticisms/  and  perhaps 
quite  as  much  for  the  sake  of  amusing  them.  Some  of 
the  then  children,  now  grown  up,  recall  those  readings 
with  pleasure. 

Life  at  Binfield  was  quiet  and  regular.  Charlotte  kept 
up  her  habit  of  early  rising  ;  and  from  eight  o'clock  till  half- 
past  eight  each  morning  she  would  take  her  '  devotional ' 
walk  in  the  garden, — hands  folded  on  chest,  head  up, 
step  firm  and  dignified.  The  impression  left  by  her 
'  dignity '  is  strong,  singularly  so,  when  considered  side 
by  side  with  a  step  so  springy  that  some  describe  it  as 
even  'jerky.' 

Mornings  were  mainly  given  up  to  writing  in  her  own 
room  ;  and  little  was  seen  of  her,  as  a  general  rule,  between 
breakfast  and  luncheon.  In  the  afternoon  she  was  always 
ready  for  callers  ;  and  if  not  needed  for  them  or  aught 
else,  she  would  go  and  visit  the  poor.  On  these  rounds 
she  commonly  carried  with  her  the  conventional  '  bag,' 
full  of  painted  texts  and  tracts. 

Evenings  were  devoted  to  sociable  enjoyments ;  fre- 
quently to  music  and  dancing.  Charlotte  was  an  adept 
at  playing  dance-music  for  her  nephews  and  nieces ;  and 
at  Binfield  she  also  danced  a  great  deal  with  her  brother 
and  the  children.  It  does  not  seem  that  she  had  lost  any 
of  her  old  light-footedness,  whether  or  not  she  had  had  prac- 
tice during  some  years  past.  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  the 
Lancers,  and  the  Minuet  were  great  favourites.  When 
the  Gavotte  began,  the  children  stopped,  for  they  could 
not  spring  high  enough ;  but  Charlotte  was  able  to  make 
the  most  wonderful  springs.  This  does  not  look  as 
though  her  spirit  were  yet  broken  by  all  that  she  had 
gone  through. 

Besides  playing  for  the  children,  she  would  plan  games 
for  them,  and  would  superintend  charades ;  and  when 
they  grew  older  she  would  read  Shakespeare  with  them, 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  169 

often  knitting  busily  all  the  while  as  she  read.  Singing 
too  had  a  share  in  these  sociable  evenings.  She  still 
steadily  refrained  from  going  out  to  parties  at  other 
people's  houses  ;  but  she  never  failed  to  be  present  at  any 
party  in  their  own  house,  not  only  making  her  appearance, 
but  contributing  her  utmost  to  the  entertainment  of 
guests. 

Her  village  work  included  visiting  of  the  poor,  and  also, 
for  a  while,  a  class  of  big  boys  in  the  night-school.  With 
the  boys  she  was  not  successful.  They  were  very 
troublesome  and  naughty,  and  she  could  not  get  hold  of 
them  at  all.  This  failure  is  curious,  in  contrast  with  her 
after-success  among  the  Native  boys  in  India,  those  '  dear 
brown  boys,'  as  she  often  called  them.  Western  and 
Eastern  boys  differ  considerably,  however ;  and  no  doubt 
the  explanation  resides  in  this  fact.  Also,  an  English 
ploughboy  requires  different  treatment  from  a  high-caste 
Indian  ;  but  she  was  '  friends '  with  boys  of  all  castes  there. 

In  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  written  from  Binfield,  she 
says  :  *  The  Curate  is  already  a  comfort  to  me  personally, 
for  he  has  taken  my  night-class  off  my  hands.  I  have  no 
scruple  in  letting  him  do  so,  for  I  believe  it  is  far  better 
for  the  boys.  They  were  too  much  for  poor  old  Char.  I 
had  seventeen  last  night,  and  felt  my  inefficiency.'  And 
in  another  letter,  soon  after:  ^We  had  a  talk  about  the 
proposed  Sunday  School.  I  asked  not  to  have  boys. 
My  feeling  is  that  I  am  too  old  for  them.' 

She  was  not  too  old,  many  years  later,  for  Batala  boys  ; 
but  plainly  she  had  not  the  requisite  gifts  for  managing  or 
winning  rough  English  village  lads. 

A  few  recollections,  jotted  down  by  three  of  her  nieces, 
may  close  this  chapter  :  — 

'In  1869  she  came  to  her  house  near  Sutton  ;  but  that  sorrowful 
year  to   her   did   not   leave  much   impression   upon   me,  probably 


I70  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

because  she  was  so  little  with  us,  and  so  much  with  her  sister  who 
died  in  our  house.  I  remember  her  next  in  the  summer  of  1870, 
when  my  sister  was  born,  coming  into  the  nursery  to  announce  the 
fact,  and  afterwards  showing  us  the  baby,  assuring  us  that  she  was 
"  as  fragile  as  egg-shells."  She  played  the  organ  in  our  little  country 
church,  and  visited  the  poor, — on  one  occasion  going  out  at  night 
to  administer  a  mustard  plaster  to  one  poor  woman,  who  thought 
herself  dying,  and  sent  for  Miss  Tucker.  .  .  . 

'  As  we  grew  older  she  would  help  us  with  our  charades  and  games, 
planning  wonderful  card  games  herself,  and  ornamenting  them  with 
brush  and  stencil.  It  was  she  who  introduced  us  to  Shakespeare, 
making  me  love  him  as  no  one  else  ever  could,  and  making  us  read 
him  in  parts.  .  .  .  On  Sunday  afternoons  she  would  take  us  up  to 
her  room,  in  order  that  my  Mother  might  rest  in  peace  from  the 
children  ;  and  there  we  always  spent  a  delightful  time,  looking  over 
her  dressing-case  with  its  treasures,  and  listening  to  the  histories  of 
each  trinket  and  curiosity,  or  messing  with  her  paints.  I  do  not 
remember  that  we  ever  felt  ourselves  to  be  in  the  way  in  that  happy 
room.  It  was  during  this  time  that  she  wrote  The  Haunted  House ^ 
which  thrilled  me  with  so  much  horror,  that  it  was  not  until  years 
after  that  I  learnt  there  was  a  spiritual  meaning  underlying  the  tale. 

'  She  was  never  ill,  but  always  felt  the  cold  extremely  in  winter, 
though  she  did  not  complain  much.  One  day  I  came  down  to 
breakfast,  exclaiming,  "  How  beautiful  the  snow  is  ! " — when  she  told 
me  how  pleased  she  was  that  I  could  say  so,  instead  of  saying, 
"  How  cold'xX.  is  ! "  When  I  was  ill  in  the  year  1872,  she  often  came 
to  see  me,  quite  disregarding  the  infection  of  my  throat ;  she  would 
play  her  guitar  to  me,  or,  as  I  grew  better,  would  patiently  guide  my 
little  fingers  to  the  right  places  on  the  strings.  She  made  up  a 
pretty  letter  in  rhyme,  and  sent  it  in  a  stamped  envelope  to  amuse 
me.  I  do  not  remember  her  ever  talking  to  me  on  religious  subjects  ; 
but  her  untiring  energy  and  gentle  patience  made  much  impression 
on  me.  .  .  . 

'  My  aunt  would  never  give  way  to  us  little  ones  when  she  was 
convinced  that  we  were  wrong ;  and  I  well  remember  a  prolonged 
struggle  between  her  and  my  baby-sister,  who  was  left  in  her  charge 
one  day.  .  .  My  aunt  regarded  the  sin  of  drunkenness  with  the  greatest 
horror;  she  rarely  mentions  it  in  her  books,  and  generally,  where 
it  is  touched  upon,  she  writes  with  the  deepest  pathos,  as  in  The 
Great  Impostor.  She  would  only  talk  of  brandy  by  its  French  name, 
and  considered  it  dangerous  to  take  Tincture  of  Rhubarb,  on  account 
of  the  spirit  it  contains.  .  .  . 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  171 

'  My  aunt  would  never  have  expressed  disapproval  of  others,  as 
many  of  the  younger  generation  do,  who  are  of  her  own  way  of  thinking. 
Where  she  did  not  approve,  she  was  usually  silent.  .  .  . 

*  But  stern  as  she  was  by  nature,  her  intense  love — the  love  of  a 
strong  nature — made  her  gentle  to  the  weaknesses  of  others.  She 
could  not  sympathise  often  with  the  weak,  but  she  could  pity  and 
love.  Long  years  of  honie-discipline  gave  humility,  self-control,  and 
gentleness.' 

II. 

'  There  are  some  lives  that  carry  about  with  them  an  atmosphere, 
as  it  were,  of  influence  and  example.  ...  It  was  thus  with  "  Auntie 
Char."  We  used  to  think  and  say,  "  How  she  would  have  admired 
such  a  deed  ! " — "  How  she  would  have  grieved  at  such  a  want  of 
courage ! "  if  anything  mean  or  underhand  were  done.  One  knew 
beforehand  what  her  opinion  of  the  transaction  would  be  ;  at  the 
same  time  her  marvellous  sympathy,  so  readily  given,  was  the  first 
sought  in  cases  of  bravery  or  of  moral  courage.  .  .  . 

*  She  rarely  "  preached  "  to  one.  I  should  say  she  rather  suggested 
little  things  that  somehow  were  never  forgotten.  The  letter  I,  for 
example — when  written  with  a  capital  letter — called  for  playful 
comment.  Up  to  the  last  I  would  often  count  in  a  fearful  manner 
the  all  too  plentiful  I's  in  my  letters  to  her.  .  .  . 

*  My  father  remembers  "  Sister  Char"  as  the  life  and  soul  of  their 
nursery  circle  in  Portland  Place, — how  in  the  gardens  close  by  she 
used  to  lead  their  glees  and  songs.  .  .  .  We  knew  what  a  great  hand 
Auntie  Char  was  at  games  of  all  kinds.  No  one  could  play  like 
her.  She  seemed  far  younger  than  any  child  present,  and  was  quite 
an  enthusiast  in  them,  as  in  everything  she  undertook.  No  one  could 
play  half-heartedly  with  her.  .  .  . 

*  Auntie  Char  had  a  wonderful  way  of  strengthening  and  en- 
couraging one  to  open  out  one's  heart  to  her,  and  a  great  and  rare 
capacity  for  putting  herself  in  "her  neighbour's  shoes."i  It  was 
during  a  visit  to  us,  in  the  May  of  1875,  that  she  acquired  the  pet 
name  of  "  Fairy  Frisket,' — the  name  of  one  of  her  own  works, — 
owing  to  her  marvellous  activity.  She  would  come  home  after  a  long 
day's  walking,  and  run  lightly  upstairs,  faster  than  we  young  ones 
cared  to  do.  In  many  of  her  letters  to  me  from  India  she  playfully 
alludes  to  this  pet  name.' 

1  As  a  curious  instance  of  differing  views,  another  relative,  who  perhaps  had 
had  even  better  opportunities  for  judging,  says  :  *  Not  sympathizing  ;  most  kind, 
but  could  not  place  herself  in  the  position  of  another.' 


172    LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

III. 

'  She  never  seemed  to  care  a  bit  to  receive  any  praise  for  her 
books,  and  she  never  let  writing  interfere  with  any  family  duties. 
She  was  wonderfully  sweet-tempered,  but  there  was  no  weakness  in 
her  sweetness.  If  others  were  inconsiderate  to  her,  I  never  saw  her 
resent  it.  .  .  .  Her  unconscious  influence  was,  I  believe,  much  larger 
than  she  has  ever  dreamed.  She  was  more  utterly  regardless  of 
personal  ease  and  comfort  than  any  one  I  ever  knew,  but  was  ever 
ready  to  praise  others.  .  .  . 

'  My  aunt  had  a  guitar  on  which  she  enjoyed  playing  as  far  back 
as  I  can  remember,  and  on  which  she  used  to  play  to  us  with  much 
animation  and  impressiveness,  singing  to  her  own  accompaniment ; 
but  I  never  remember  her  playing  to  herself  for  her  own  personal 
amusement.  One  of  her  songs  I  do  not  remember  hearing  from 
any  one  else.  The  refrain  in  each  verse  was — "Till  green  leaves 
come  again."  .  .  .  Another  song  that  she  sang  took  my  fancy, — I 
believe  it  was  an  old-fashioned  one  in  MS.,— and  she  at  once  copied 
it  for  me,  making  time  to  do  so  amid  the  many  things  occupying 
her  at  the  time.  Most  people  would  have  let  me  copy  it  for  myself, 
as  I  was  quite  a  girl  and  had  plenty  of  leisure  ;  but  she  never  seemed 
to  do  things  like  other  people 

'  Nothing  that  I  can  say  would  explain  how  beautifully  unselfish 
she  was,  how  utterly  regardless  of  herself,  and  thoughtful  for  others. 
She  was  one  of  the  few  whom  one  could  most  truly  call  noble^  and 
yet  so  sweetly  humble.  I  mourn  her  irreparable  loss  all  the  more 
for  the  long  parting  since  she  left  us  for  the  Mission-field  abroad.' 


CHAPTER    XIV 

1875 

AN    UNEXPECTED   RESOLVE 

It  is  not  quite  easy  to  say  at  what  precise  date  the  idea 
first  seriously  presented  itself  to  the  mind  of  Charlotte 
Tucker,  that  she  might  go  out  to  India  as  a  Missionary. 
Some  years  earlier,  after  the  death  of  her  sister  Fanny, 
she  had  evidently  regretted  that  she  could  not  do  so, 
looking  upon  herself  as  too  old.  But  the  question  again 
arose — Was  she  really  too  old  ?  That  question  Charlotte 
now  faced  steadily. 

The  plan  of  living  in  her  brother's  house,  never  looked 
upon  as  entirely  permanent,  had  lasted  several  years  ;  but 
various  causes  pointed  to  a  change  before  long  as  probably 
necessary.  In  January  1875,  Mr.  Hamilton,  who  had  long 
been  in  failing  health,  passed  away  ;  and  Charlotte  seems, 
either  in  anticipation  of  the  event,  or  directly  after,  to 
have  had  some  floating  ideas  of  making  a  home  with  her 
widowed  favourite  sister.  Here  also,  however,  there  were 
certain  difficulties  in  the  way  of  an  entirely  permanent 
arrangement ;  and  meanwhile  the  thought  of  India  was 
becoming  prominent. 

Charlotte  was  now  close  upon  fifty-four  years  old, — an 
age  at  which  few  women  dream  of  making  an  absolutely 
fresh  start  in  life.  Some  are  and  some  are  not  elderly  at 
that  age ;  but  as  a  general  rule  no  doubt  a  woman's  best 
and  most  vigorous  days  are  then  over,  and  she  is  more  or 

173 


174  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

less  disposed  for  an  easy  existence.  Many  at  that  period 
can  thoroughly  enjoy  travelling  for  pleasure.  But  to  make 
a  new  home  amid  new  surroundings,  to  learn  a  new 
language,  to  enter  upon  a  new  line  of  work, — these  things 
after  the  fiftieth  birthday  have  a  somewhat  alarming 
sound. 

Not  so  with  A.  L.  O.  E. !  For  her  these  fifty  years  and 
more  of  quiet  English  existence  had  been  years  of 
preparation,  of  training,  of  patience.  For  her  parents' 
sake  she  had  dutifully  held  back,  during  the  noontide  and 
early  afternoon  of  her  history,  from  much  that  she  would 
fain  have  done ;  and  though  the  latter  part  of  her 
'afternoon'  had  been  full  and  busy,  with  freedom  to  do 
what  she  willed,  yet  even  this  was  not  enough.  At 
fifty-four  she  stood  practically  alone,  with  no  near  relative 
entirely  dependent  on  her  kind  offices.  She  was  absolutely 
necessary  to  none.  Had  she  been,  she  would  not  have 
gone  to  India.  But  finding  herself  thus  unfettered,  the 
thought  came  up, — Why  not  devote  the  Evening  of  her 
life  to  Missionary  work?  Why  not  set  an  example  to 
others  who,  like  herself,  might  with  advancing  years  be 
left  free  of  ties  ?  Or  at  least,  why  not  put  the  matter  to 
the  test  of  actual  trial,  and  prove  whether  or  not  elderly 
women,  and  not  younger  ones  only,  might  go  forth  to 
work  among  the  Heathen  ? 

There  was  the  question  of  health.  Could  she  stand  the 
trying  climate  of  India?  Would  she  not  be  a  mere 
burden  on  others  ? — an  additional  care  instead  of  a  help  ? 

Well,  at  least  she  could  try.  If  her  health  failed  to 
stand  the  climate,  she  could  but  return  home.  If  she 
succeeded,  she  might  be  the  Pioneer  of  many  more,  who 
would  perhaps  venture  to  tread  in  her  footsteps. 

Had  it  been  a  question  of  going  out  at  the  expense  of  the 
Society's  funds,  the  Society  might  rightly  have  hesitated  ; 
but   Charlotte  Tucker  had  enough  of  her  own.     While 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  175 

placing  herself  under  the  authority  of  the  Zenana  Society, 
and  obeying  orders,  she  would  pay  her  own  way  ;  therefore, 
no  risking  of  Missionary  funds  was  involved. 

No  doubt  she  was  peculiarly  well  adapted  for  the 
attempt.  Although  thin  and  delicate-looking,  she  was 
distinctly  wiry,  with  much  underlying  strength,  and  an 
immense  amount  of  vigour  and  vitality.  A  woman  of 
fifty,  who  can  lightly  dance  the  gavotte,  with  springs 
which  a  child  cannot  emulate,  is  not  quite  an  ordinary 
specimen  of  advancing  years.  The  failure  of  power  which 
had  followed  upon  the  death  of  Letitia,  lasting  more  or 
less  during  some  years,  had  now  pretty  well  passed  off ; 
and  there  seemed  to  be  good  promise  of  a  healthy  old  age. 

She  was  generally  sound,  with  no  especial  delicacy ; 
she  did  not  suffer  from  any  tendency  to  headache ;  she 
was  not  fussy,  or  self-indulgent,  or  dainty  as  to  her  eating, 
or  particular  as  to  personal  comforts,  or  squeamish  as  to 
her  surroundings,  or  shy  in  making  new  friends,  or  afraid 
of  toil  and  trouble.  All  these  things  were  in  her  favour. 
She  was  in  fact  no  timid  shrinking  Miss  Toosey, — dear 
little  old  lady  that  Miss  Toosey  was  ! — but  a  fine  spirited 
specimen  of  A  middle-aged  Lady  of  England, — well  fitted, 
it  might  be,  to  become  even  then  A  Lady  of  India.  Those 
who  think  of  following  the  example  of  A  .L.  O.  E.  ought  to 
possess  at  least  some  of  her  qualifications.  Had  a  Miss 
Toosey,  instead  of  a  Miss  Tucker,  been  the  Pioneer  of 
elderly  ladies  in  the  Mission-field,  the  attempt  would  have 
been  a  disastrous  failure. 

Although  the  matter  was  not  definitely  settled  until  the 
spring  of  1875,  it  had  plainly  been  for  some  time  in 
Charlotte's  mind  as  something  more  than  a  bare  possi- 
bility ;  for  during  many  weeks  she  had  been  studying 
Hindustani.  She  had,  however,  said  not  a  word  about  it 
to  any  of  her  relatives,  beyond  privately  consulting  her 
elder  brother,  Mr.   Henry  Carre   Tucker.      She   thought 


176  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

much,  prayed  much,  and  waited  to  be  shown  her  right 
path :  meanwhile  beginning  to  prepare  for  what  might  be 
her  duty. 

When  at  length  she  gave  out  her  intention,  as  a  matter 
already  decided,  the  announcement  fell  among  friends  and 
relatives  like  the  bursting  of  a  bomb.  Nobody  had  dreamt 
of  such  a  career  for  '  Auntie  Char.' 

The  following  letter  contains  her  first  intimation  of 
what  was  coming  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Hamilton  :— 

''March  24,  1875. 

'  Mv  BELOVED  Laura,— I  do  not  know  when  I  shall  send  this,  for 
I  hardly  hope  that  when  you  know  my  plans  for  the  future  you  will 
say,  as  Henry  did,  a  month  ago,  "  Selfishly  I  should  be  delighted," — 
but  I  hope  that  when  you  have  quietly  thought  and  prayed  over  the 
subject,  you  will  not  let  your  tender  affection  make  you  wish  to  keep 
me  back  from  the  work  for  our  dear  Lord  for  which  I  have  for  some 
time  been  preparing  myself  by  hard  study. 

'  Years  ago  I  said  that  if  I  were  not  too  old  to  learn  a  new  language 
I  should  probably — after  sweet  Fanny  had  departed — have  gone  out 
as  a  Missionary.  This  year  the  question  came  to  my  mind.  Am  I 
really  unable  to  learn  a  new  language  ?  I  find  that  I  can  learn,  and 
the  only  real  objection  to  my  going  is  taken  away.  Yes,  sweet 
Laura,  the  only  real  objection;  for  I  can  leave  you  rich  in  the 
devoted  love  of  your  children.  Thank  God,  you  are  not  lonely  ;  and 
circumstances  might  easily  arise  to  make  it  undesirable  that  I  should 
make  a  third  or  fourth  lady  in — perhaps — a  Curate's  dear  little 
home. 

'  I  have  not  come  to  my  present  decision  in  a  hurried  moment.  In 
the  second  week  of  February  I  made  my  Missionary  project  a  sub- 
ject of  special  prayer  ;  on  the  24th  I  had  an  important  interview  with 
Henry,  with  whom  I  had  corresponded  on  the  subject.  He  had  no 
fears  as  to  my  health  standing  the  climate,  or  as  to  my  being  able 
to  learn  the  language.  I  began  to  learn  it  on  the  14th  February, 
and  by  many  hours  of  diligent  study  have  nearly  gone  through  St. 
Matthew  in  Hindustani,  besides  making  a  vocabulary  of  more  than 
three  hundred  words,  learning  by  heart,  etc.  I  have  thrown  my  soul 
into  the  work,  thankful  and  happy  in  the  hope  that  the  Lord  would 
open  my  lips,  that  my  mouth  should  show  forth  His  praise  to  the  poor 
Zenana  prisoners  in  India.     The  enclosed,  being  the  two  last  letters 


LAURA 

About  the  Year  1871 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  177 

which  I  have  received  from  the  Secretary  of  the  Zenana  Mission,  will 
show  you  how  graciously  God  has  smoothed  the  way  for  me,  pro- 
viding an  escort  all  the  way  to  the  place  which  I  now  think  of  as  my 
home — Amritsar. 

'  But  you  will  say — "  Why  choose  India  ?  Why  at  your  age  be  not 
content  to  work  in  England  ?  " 

'  I  will  give  you  a  few  reasons  for  my  thinking  it  desirable  for  me 
to  go  to  the  East : — 

'  I.  In  that  corner  of  the  Vineyard  the  labourers  are  indeed  fear- 
fully few ;  scarcely  one  to  many,  many  thousands  of  perishing 
heathen. 

'  2.  Not  one  Englishwoman  in  ten  is  so  well  suited  to  bear  heat  as 
myself. 

'  3.  Not  one  woman  in  a  hundred  at  least  is  so  free  from  home- 
ties  as  myself. 

'4.  There  is  a  terrible  want  of  suitable  literature  for  Indian  women. 
If  God  enabled  me  still  to  use  my  pen,  intimate  knowledge  of  even 
one  Zenana  might  be  an  immense  help  to  me  in  writing  for  my  Indian 
sisters. 

'  Do  not  grudge  me,  dear  one,  to  the  work  for  which  my  soul 
yearns.  You  see  by  the  enclosed  that  my  arrangements  are  made, 
and  that  expostulation  would  but  pain  me.  I  would  have  told  you  of 
my  plan  some  time  ago,  only  I  feared  to  distress  you  when  you  have 
had  so  much  of  trial.  But  why  should  you  expostulate,  or  why  should 
you  be  distressed  ?  Is  not  Missionary  work  of  all  work  the  highest .'' 
I  only  fear  that  I  am  presumptuous  in  coming  forward  ;  but  it  seems 
as  if  my  dear  Lord  were  calling  me  to  it ;  and  my  heart  says, — "  Here 
am  I  ;  send  me."  I  own  with  shame  that  much  that  is  unworthy 
mingles  with  my  desire  to  serve  the  Lord  in  India  ;  but  the  desire 
itself  has,  I  trust,  been  put  into  my  mind  by  Him. 

'  Cheer  and  encourage  and  pray  for  me,  my  Laura,  that  my  Autumn 
may  be  better  than  my  Spring  and  Summer — that  the  richest  harvest 
come  in  the  latter  days.  Ask  the  Lord  to  give  me  Indian  gems  in 
the  crown  which  He  has  bought  for  His  servants. 

'On  the  28th  February,  at  Holy  Communion,  I  devoted  myself  to 
the  Zenana  Mission.  But  I  am  bound  by  no  vows.  I  go  out  free^ 
an  honorary  Agent  of  the  Society. — Your  loving 

'C.  M.  Tucker.' 

Writing  again   on   the  7th  of  May,  she  said  :    '  I  have 
been   formally  presented  to  the   Committee  of  my  own 
M 


178  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Society,  who  were  very  courteous.'  The  Society  was  then 
known  under  the  cumbrous  name  of  '  The  Indian  Female 
Normal  School  and  Instruction  Society.'  A  few  years 
later  it  separated  into  two  distinct  Societies  ;  one  of  which, 
'The  Church  of  England  Zenana  Society,'  Charlotte 
Tucker  joined. 

As  was  to  be  expected,  her  new  plan  met  with  some 
opposition.  Many  who  dearly  loved  her  were  most 
sincerely  grieved  at  the  thought  of  such  a  parting  ;  and 
others  were  disposed  to  look  upon  the  scheme  at  her  age 
as  somewhat  crazy.  Small  marvel  if  they  did.  Such  an 
attempt  had  not  been  made  before  ;  and  the  untried 
always  contains  unmeasured  elements  of  danger  and  diffi- 
culty. Probably  her  unusual  fitness  for  the  undertaking 
was  hardly  realised  as  yet  even  by  many  of  those  who 
knew  her  best.  She  had  not,  however,  the  pain  of  opposi- 
tion from  her  best-loved  sister,  Mrs.  Hamilton.  *  It  will 
be  a  sore  pang  to  her  to  part  with  me,'  she  wrote  to  her 
niece,  Mrs.  Boswell  ;  '  but  her  feeling  will  be  that  she 
gives  me  to  God.  And  to  my  great  comfort  she  does  not 
attempt  to  stay  me.' 

Before  going  to  India,  she  resolved  to  take  another 
voyage — a  trip  to  Canada,  for  a  farewell  sight  of  her 
nephew,  '  Charley  ' ;  the  youngest  of  '  The  Robins.'  She 
would  have  his  brother,  her  other  nephew,  Louis  Tucker, 
for  a  companion  on  this  preliminary  journey.  Of  its  perils 
and  pleasures  Charlotte  Tucker's  own  pen  can  best  tell 
the  tale. 

TO   MRS.   J.   BOSWELL. 

'  May  24. 

'  I  had  more  than  an  hour  to  wait  at  Paddington,  but ,  who  was 

with  me,  gave  me  a  little  lesson  in  Hindustani.  P.  E.  did  the  same 
yesterday  ;  he  let  me  repeat  and  read  from  the  Testament  to  him, 
and  then  he  read  a  little  to  me.  I  generally  understood  what  he  was 
j-eadin^  when  he  went  slowly.     I  am  so  thankful  to  snatch  lessons  in 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  179 

pronunciation.  .  .  .  Louis  and  I  are,  if  all  be  well,  to  start  in  the 
Nova  Scotia  on  Thursday,  at  one  o'clock.  .  .  .  What  a  beautiful 
hymn  there  is  in  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern,  "for  those  at  sea"  ! 
Not  that  I  consider  drowning  a  worse  way  of  going  Home  than  any 
other.  As  a  lady  said,  "We  cannot  sink  lower  than  into  our 
Father's  Hand "  ;  for  it  is  written,  "  He  holdeth  the  deep  in  the 
hollow  of  His  Hand." ' 


TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

'  Gresford,  May  26,  1875. 

'  I  am  almost  packed,  ready  for  my  start  to-morrow  morning  ;  but 
I  have  a  nice  quiet  time  for  a  little  chat  with  precious  Laura.  Loving 
thanks  for  your  sweet  letter.  .  .  . 

'You  wished  me  to  see  Dr.  Griffith.  I  have  seen  him  to-day, 
though  not  in  the  character  of  a  patient,  I  am  thankful  to  say.  .  .  . 
The  dear  old  man  appeared  to  feel  real  gratification  at  hearing  of  my 
going  to  India  as  a  Zenana  visitor,  inquired  with  interest  about  the 
language, — health  did  not  appear  to  enter  his  medical  mind, — and 
really  affectionately  gave  me  his  blessing.  I  am  glad  to  have  it.  I 
told  him  that  I  am  fifty-four,  and  Dr.  Griffith  made  nothing  of  it. 
Dear  Aunt  is  so  loving  and  motherlike  ;  but  she  sympathises  in  the 
cause,  which  is  a  comfort  to  me.  It  would  have  been  very  painful 
had  she  disapproved, — almost  as  painful  as  if  my  favourite  sister  had 
disapproved.     Dr.  G.'s  visit  really  refreshed  me.' 

TO  THE   SAME. 

'  On  BOARD  THE  NOVA  SCOTIA, 

May  27,  1875. 

'  I  did  not  think  that  I  should  have  had  an  opportunity  of  having 
a  letter  posted  from  Derry,  but  it  appears  that  I  shall.  I  am  now 
quietly  scudding  over  the  Atlantic.  There  is  not  much  motion  in  the 
vessel,  which  seems  to  me  to  be  a  very  large  one.  There  are  a  great 
many  emigrants,  but  I  doubt  whether  it  will  be  easy  for  me  to  com- 
municate with  them. 

'  You  who  are  so  kindly  anxious  about  my  comfort  will  be  pleased 
to  know  that  I  have  a  very  fair  amount  of  wraps,  and  am  more  likely 
to  suffer  from  heat  than  cold,  seeing  that  my  cabin  port-hole  is  never 
opened,  and  that  the  only  way  of  ventilating  it  is  by  leaving  the  door 
open,— a  thing  not  to  be  thought  of  at  night,  as  ladies'  and  gentle- 


i8o  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

men's  cabins  are  not  at  all  in  separate  parts  of  the  vessel.  By-the- 
by,  the  latter  part  of  that  long  sentence  will  not  please  you.  I 
should  have  broken  the  paragraph  into  two.  I  have  at  present  the 
luxury  of  having  the  cabin  all  to  myself,  and  only  hope  that  when 
we  touch  at  the  Irish  port,  we  will  take  in  no  fair  passenger  to 
share  it. 

'  Now  I  think  I  will  go  on  deck.  ...  I  am  perfectly  well  at  present. 
The  only  thing  I  fear  is  using  up  my  oxygen  at  night.  I  have  had 
such  a  nice  letter  of  welcome  from  Mrs.  Elmslie.'^ 


CIRCULAR   LETTER   TO   SEVERAL  OF  THE   FAMILY. 

'June  5,  1875. 

'  "  Yes,  you  will  see  icebergs,  plenty,  more  than  enough,"  said  the 
Captain  to  me  on  the  3rd.  "  This  is  an  exceptional  year  for  ice."  He 
spoke  so  quietly  that  I  did  not  at  the  time  give  full  significance  to 
his  words. 

'  But  on  the  next  day,  the  4th,  we  beheld  icebergs  indeed, — I 
believe  more  than  a  hundred,  and  some,  O  how  glorious  !  Our 
eyes  were  satiated  with  beauty.  Now  a  bold  iceberg  rose  before  us, 
reminding  me  of  pictures  of  Gibraltar  ;  but  this  berg  was  all  of  snow,^ 
and,  as  well  as  we  could  guess,  about  150  feet  high.  Then  another, 
most  graceful  in  shape,  appeared,  like  a  sculptured  piece  of  alabas- 
ter, wearing  a  huge  jewel  of  pale  greenish  blue  ;  this,  from  its  pure 
beauty,  Louis  called  "The  Maiden."  We  turned  from  its  softer 
loveliness,  to  gaze  on  that  which  I  thought  the  finest  iceberg  of  all, 
the  ruins  of  some  huge  amphitheatre. 

'  As  we  gazed,  some  of  the  bergs  changed  greatly  in  shape.  The 
"  Maiden  "  split  quite  in  two.  Fancy  these  glorious  wanderers  from 
Greenland  or  Labrador,  with  the  sea-spray  dashing  against  their 
sides,  showing  that  they  were  aground  ;  for,  as  you  are  aware,  the 
mass  of  ice  below  water  is  far  greater  than  that  which  is  visible  above 
it.  One  could  not  but  think,  "  What  a  mercy  it  is  that  we  did  not 
pass  those  large  icebergs  in  the  night  !"  Had  our  great  emigrant-ship, 
freighted  with  2000  tons  of  iron,  dashed  up  against  one  of  them,  we 
should  have  gone  to  the  bottom  like  lead.  Nothing  more  would 
have  been  heard  of  the  Nova  Scotia,  and  the  more  than  600  mortals 
on  board. 

1  One  of  the  Zenana  Missionaries  at  Amritsar.  .  • 

2  Doubtless  covered  with  snow. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  i8i 

'  But  the  day  was  clear,  and  it  was  easy  to  give  the  bergs  a  wide 
berth.  Every  one's  spirits  rose.  There  was  nothing  but  enjoyment 
of  the  beautiful  scene,  admiration  at  the  strange  sights  before  us. 
The  sun  at  length  sank ;  but  a  few  icebergs  loomed  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  I  had  an  idea  that  we  had  almost  come  to  the  end 
of  the  ice-tract.  We  had  delightful  music  in  the  saloon,  and  all 
appeared  cheerfulness  and  peace.  Even  when  my  attention  was 
directed  to  strange  dark  objects  on  the  ocean,  which  I  could  see 
through  the  round  saloon  window,  no  thought  of  danger  came  into 
my  mind. 

'  At  the  invitation  of  another  lady  I  went  on  deck,  where  I  was 
able  better  to  watch  the  strange  scene  before  me.  Out  of  the  ice- 
tract,  indeed  !  Why,  we  were  in  the  very  midst  of  thousands  upon 
thousands  of  masses  of  floating  ice,  through  which  the  vessel  very, 
very  cautiously  as  it  were  felt  her  way,  sometimes  stopping  altogether. 
Strange  to  say,  even  when  I  heard  the  keel  grate  over  ice,  it  was  very, 
very  slowly  that  I  received  the  impression  of  danger.  The  night  was 
exquisitely  lovely,  the  stars  shining  gloriously.  I  could  hardly  have 
supposed  that  any  star  would  have  cast  such  a  reflection  on  the 
smoothest  water  as  Mars  threw  on  the  still  ocean. 

'  The  brightness  of  the  starlight,  the  quietness  of  the  water, 
greatly  added  to  our  chance  of  safety.  One  felt  that  a  watchful  and 
skilful  captain  was  cautiously  piloting  us,  avoiding  the  larger  masses 
of  ice,  though  our  vessel  passed  right  over  some  of  the  little  ones. 
I  watched  the  tiny  globes  of  phosphoric  light  which  sometimes 
gleamed  on  the  water,  and  the  dark  objects  which  I  knew  to  be  pieces 
of  floating  ice.  There  was  pleasure  in  watching  them  ;  for  though 
reason  at  last  convinced  one  that  danger  there  must  be  under  the 
circumstances,  a  touch  of  fear,  or  rather  sense  of  danger,  rather 
enhances  enjoyment. 

'  I  was  tired,  but  lingered  on  deck,  till  a  lady  came  up  to  me,  and 
suggested  that  we  had  better  go  below,  as  she  believed  that  lights 
were  put  out  at  eleven,  and  if  we  did  not  go  we  might  have  to  retire 
to  bed  in  the  dark.  Down  I  descended  to  my  cabin  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  vessel.  Some  of  the  passengers  on  deck  had  been  con- 
sidering the  possibility,  on  so  fair  a  night,  and  with  Newfoundland 
near, — for  we  had  sighted  the  light  on  shore, — of  our  being  saved  by 
the  boats,  even  should  the  vessel  be  lost.  But  we  remembered  that 
there  were  more  than  600  persons  on  board.  The  Captain  would  do 
well,  if  he  could  manage  to  place  half  the  number  in  the  boats.  It 
was  clear  that  all  could  not  expect  to  be  saved. 

'  When  I  went  to  my  cabin,  I  was  not  disposed  at  once  to  go  to 


1 82  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

rest.  I  knelt  on  my  sofa,  so  as  to  be  able  to  look  out  from  my  port- 
hole on  the  ocean  and  its  numerous  floating  fragments  of  ice,  seen  in 
the  starlight.  Not  only  was  the  sense  of  sight  exercised,  but  that  of 
hearing.  Nine  times  I  thought  that  I  heard  the  keel  grate  against 
the  ice.  I  may  possibly  be  mistaken  in  the  number  of  times  ;  but 
the  noise  was  distinct,  and  its  nature  not  to  be  mistaken.  At  a  short 
distance — it  did  not  look  a  hundred  yards — the  clear,  smooth  sea 
appeared  to  be  skirted  by  a  tall  hedge.  It  was  not  land,  for  occasion- 
ally I  saw  a  light  gleam  through  it.  I  asked  a  seaman  afterwards 
what  it  was, — it  was,  as  I  suspected,  a  bank  of  fog  between  us  and 
the  coast  of  Newfoundland. 

'  I  watched  till  my  cabin-light  went  out,  and  I  was  left  in  dark- 
ness, save  that  my  port-hole  looked  like  a  pale  moon  in  the  dark 
cabin.  I  turned  into  my  berth,  but  not  at  once  to  sleep.  I  lay 
thinking,  reflecting  on  the  possibility  of  feeling  the  vessel  going  down, 
down, — and  reflecting  on  what  an  easy  death  drowning  would  be. 
Still,  I  did  not  really  expect  to  be  drowned. 

'  The  vessel  stopped  dead  still, — I  listened  for  the  sound  of  pump- 
ing, or  of  preparing  boats.  I  heard  one— to  me — strange  noise,  I  can 
hardly  describe  it,  between  a  blast  and  a  bellow.  I  thought  that  it  must 
be  a  signal,  and  I  was  not  wrong  ;  for  I  hear  this  morning  that  it  was 
the  fog- whistle  from  the  shore.  It  seemed  to  me  that  it  was  useless 
for  me  to  rise  ;  if  there  were  any  use  in  my  returning  to  the  deck, 
dear  Louis  would  call  me.  He  would  be  sure  to  think  of  my  life 
before  his  own. 

'  After  a  while  I  went  fast  asleep,  and  did  not  awake  till  the  bright, 
clear  morning,  when  there  could  no  longer  be  the  shadow  of  danger. 
I  rose,  dressed,  and  went  on  deck.  The  sea  was  beautifully  smooth, 
blue,  and  clear  from  ice,  except  a  few  bergs  in  the  distance.  I  had  a 
happy,  thankful  heart. 

'  One  lady  had  remained  on  deck  till  past  three.  She  told  me  of  a 
field  of  ice,  and  great  masses  of  ice,  through  and  beside  which  we  had 
passed  ;  and  she  had  seen  the  Northern  Lights,  which  I  am  sorry  to 
have  missed.  The  Captain  never  slept  till  the  drift-ice  was  passed. 
He  was  at  breakfast,  however,  this  morning,  and  I  doubt  not  felt 
very  thankful.  I  believe  that  he  has  had  three  anxious,  wakeful 
nights  ;  but  the  change  in  the  weather  must  have  been  a  very 
great  help  to  him.  We  had  had  such  miserable  dull  weather, 
and  such  heavy  rolling  seas.  Last  night  all  was  so  clear ;  and  I 
saw  the  stars,  I  think,  for  the  first  time  since  our  starting.  Please 
pass  this  letter  on  ;  for  I  cannot  write  over  the  same  thing  to  all 
dear  ones.' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  183 

to  mrs.  j.  boswell. 

'  On  board  a  huge  River  Steamer, 
June  9,  1875. 
'  Here  we  are  steaming  up  the  St.  Lawrence  to    Montreal.  .  .  . 
Quebec  is  a  wondrously  fair  city.  .  .  .  We  went  this  morning  to  see 
the  Montmorency  Fall,  a  cascade  where  a  great  volume  of  water 
churned  into  foam  dashes  down  a  precipice  300  feet  high.  .  .  . 

^Jiine  10. 
'  I  finish  this  off  in  Montreal,  a  very  handsome,  thriving-looking 
city,  with  far  grander  buildings  than  Quebec  :  but  it  wants  the 
dreamlike,  exquisite  beauty  of  its  sister.  More  kindness  meets  us 
here.  .  .  .  Have  you  seen  the  account  of  the  loss  of  the  Vicksburg 
in  the  ice,  just  three  days  before  we  encountered  the  ice  off  the  same 
coast  ?  Only  five  sailors  saved  ;  not  one  passenger  !  We  should 
have  gone  down  faster  than  the  poor  Vicksburg^  because  of  our 
heavier  cargo.  I  should  not  have  had  a  chance ;  and  my  gallant 
Louis  would  probably  have  lost  his  (life),  because  he  would  never 
have  deserted  me.' 

Although  Charlotte  Tucker's  Indian  life  lay  still  in  the 
future,  this  seems  to  be  the  right  place  for  quoting  a  few 
words  from  her  pen,  written  after  years  of  toil  in  the  East. 
Her  mind  was  plainly  reverting  to  the  voyage  above 
described  : — 

'  It  seems  strange  that  the  idea  of  an  ice-bound  vessel  should 
suggest  itself  to  a  Missionary,  working  in  the  "  glowing  East "  ;  yet 
it  is  so.  We,  in  Batala,  seem  for  years  to  have  been  labouring  to  cut 
a  passage  through  hard,  cold  ice,  with  the  chilly  bergs  of  Muham- 
madanism  and  Hinduism  towering  on  either  hand.  But  though 
channels  which  had  been  laboriously  opened  may  be  closed,  the  crew 
are  by  no  means  disheartened.  The  worst  of  the  winter  is  now, 
we  hope,  over.  We  see  on  various  sides  cracks  in  the  ice.  A 
Brahmin  convert,  brave  and  true,  has  been  like  a  bright  fragment 
broken  from  the  berg,  helping  somewhat  to  throw  it  off  its  balance. 
The  way  is  becoming  more  open,  and  there  are  tokens  of  melting 
below  the  surface  of  the  ice.  We  know  that  one  day  of  God's  bright 
sunshine  can  do  more  to  make  a  clear  way  than  our  little  picks  can 
accomplish.' 


CHAPTER    XV 

1875 

BESIDE   NIAGARA 

There  can  be  no  mistake  about  Charlotte  Tucker's 
enjoyment  of  fresh  sights  and  scenes  across  the  Atlantic, 
or  about  the  fact  that  increasing  years  had  at  least  not 
dimmed  her  appreciation  of  beauty.  Most  kind  and 
warm  hospitality  was  shown  to  her  at  Quebec,  at  Montreal, 
and  at  Toronto.  She  was  met  at  Oakville  Station  by  her 
younger  nephew,  Charles  Tucker, — the  latter  in  'a  state 
of  joyous  expectation'  which  had  kept  him  awake  through 
three  previous  nights.  Then  followed  a  welcome  from  his 
wife,  in  their  '  pretty  little  home,'  elsewhere  described  by 
her  as  '  a  Canadian  settler's  little  farmhouse.' 

While  there,  finding  the  life  quiet,  and  plenty  of  time 
on  her  hands,  she  'took  to  Persian  characters,'  as  'an 
interesting  riddle  to  solve,'  and  also  worked  hard  at  her 
Hindustani,  spending  many  hours  over  both. 

Also  she  insisted  on  doing  in  Canada  as  Canadians  do, 
— making  her  own  bed,  and  even  essaying  to  accomplish 
some  ironing.  Perhaps  the  last  attempt  did  not  meet 
with  brilliant  success.     She  wrote  home  about  it : — 

' "  'Though  seldom  sure  if  e'er  before 
That  hand  had  ironed  linen  o'er  ..." 

the  great  matter  is  that  the  things  are  clean  ;  but  I  own  I 
am  glad  that  I  shall  have  a  d/wl?i  in  India.' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  185 

Another  day  she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Hamilton :  *  The  Uttle 
maid  here  amuses  me.  She  is  very  fond  of  music,  and 
likes  me  to  sing  for  her.  She  asked  me — kindly — if  I 
would  like  my  boots  cleaned,  and  as  I  thought  that  I 
should,  the  little  dear  cleaned  them,  and  brought  them  to 
me  to  show  off  her  work, — as  a  six-year-old  child  of  the 
house  might  have  done.  She  looks  such  an  innocent 
duck ! ' 

An  expedition  to  Niagara  was  achieved  with  much 
success ;  after  which  she  wrote  to  one  of  her  aunts  in 
England  :  '  My  nephews  think  me  amazingly  strong,  and 
yet  I  have  become  almost  a  teetotaller.  Except  your 
little  bottle  of  sherry,  I  have  only  tasted  wine  twice  since 
I  left  you.     How  I  did  enjoy  your  lemon-juice  ! ' 

Her  glowing  description  of  the  Falls  themselves,  sent 
to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  must  be  at  least  in  part  quoted. 
Though  an  oft-related  tale,  it  may  perhaps  gain  some 
freshness  from  her  mode  of  telling  it : — 

'Clifton  House,  Niagara  Falls, 
'-June  22,  1875. 

'  I  must  write  to  some  dear  one  while  the  sound  of  Niagara  is  in 
my  ears,  whilst  the  impression  of  Niagara  is  fresh  in  my  mind  ;  and 
I  direcjt  my  letter  to  you,  sweet  Laura,  knowing  that  you  will  let 
others  see  it.  .  .  . 

'  I  have  looked  on  the  most  glorious  scene,  I  believe,  that  is  to 
be  seen  on  this  planet.  How  can  I  attempt  to  describe  Niagara? 
When  I  gaze  on  what  is  called  "  The  American  Fall,"  I  ask  myself 
a  dozen  times,  "Is  it  possible  that  there  can  be  anything  more 
beautiful  ?  "  .  .  .  though  I  have  only  to  turn  my  head  a  little  to  behold 
the  "  Horse- Shoe  Fall,"  which  is  even  more  gloriously  beautiful. 
The  American  Fall  would  make  in  itself  twenty  or  thirty  cascades 
that  would  delight  us  in  England.  O  the  sparkling  rush  of  diamonds, 
— the  white  misty  foam  breaking  on  the  picturesque  rocks  beneath, 
— the  accessories  so  beautiful, — the  cloud-like  veil  so  transparently 
lovely  ! 

'  Earth  here  is  so  fair,  with  bold  crags  draperied  with  the  richest 
foliage,  that  one  could  imagine  her  contending  for  the  palm  with 


1 86  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

water ;  but  water  carries  the  victory  at  Niagara ;  Earth  but  serves 
to  frame  and  set  off  her  magnificence.  If  Earth  be  green,  so  is  water. 
Where  Niagara  plunges  over  her  Horse- Shoe-shaped  rocks,  the 
colour  of  the  water  is  often  brilliant,  crystal-like  green.  Then  as 
the  river  emerges  from  its  veil  of  spray, — spray  sometimes  rising 
pyramid-like  for  hundreds  of  feet, — it  assumes  a  deeper  green,  more 
blue  than  that  of  the  surrounding  foliage,  but  pure  in  tint. 

'A  lovely,  most  verdant  island,  Goat  Island,  divides  the  two 
grand  Falls, — or,  I  may  rather  say,  three,  for  one  glorious  cascade 
is  called  Central  Fall.  In  this  exquisite  island,  and  other  smaller 
ones,  you  wander  amongst  silent  shady  woods,  or  stand  so  close  to 
the  rushing  waters,  that  one  or  two  steps  would  send  you  over  the 
brink  into  the  cloudy  chasm  below.  Perhaps,  Laura,  nothing  can 
better  convey  to  you  the  impression  left  on  me,  than  to  tell  you  what 
was  my  repeatedly  recurring  thought.  "  If  I  had  to  suffer  martyrdom, 
in  no  form  could  it  appear  more  attractive  than  by  being  thrown 
over  Niagara  ! "  To  be  launched  into  eternity,  shrouded  in  that 
cascade  of  diamonds,  would  rouse  such  a  thrilling  sense  of  the 
beautiful  and  the  sublime,  that  half  one's  fears  would  be  swallowed 
up  in  something  almost  like  joy.  It  would  seem  ten  times  more 
horrible  to  be  flung  from  a  high  tower  on  to  the  hard,  cold  earth. 
This  is  not  a  mere  fancy  of  my  own.  I  find  that  I  am  not  alone 
in  thinking  that  death  would  appear  less  repulsive  at  Niagara  than 
elsewhere.'- 

'  I  have  seen  the  many  beauties  of  this  place  well.  ...  I  have 
looked  on  the  rapids  above  the  Falls.  They  seemed  to  me  an  emblem 
of  human  life.  Such  a  rushing, — such  a  hurry, — chafing  against 
obstacles,— impatience,  passion,  excitement.  Then  comes  the  grand 
leap  —  boldly,  almost  joyously,  taken,  —  the  leap  into  cloud  and 
mystery,  —  and  below,  the  river  emerges  from  froth  and  foam, 
comparatively  calm.  One  wonders  that  it  is  as  quiet  as  it  appears 
to  be  after  such  a  plunge  ! 

'  Yes,  I  shall  never  see  such  a  sight  again,  till  I  behold  the  Great 
White  Throne,  and  the  Sea  of  Glass,  like  unto  crystal. 

'  We  all  wandered  about  yesterday,  till  we  were  too  much  tired  to 
wander  more.  We  had  intended  to  sit  up  to  see  moonlight  on 
Niagara ;  but  instead  of  so  doing  we  separated  at  9.  I  soon  fell 
asleep,  but  I  woke  in  the  dim  twilight,  I  suppose  at  about  3  A.M.     The 

1  In  a  letter  of  Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe  is  the  following  passage,  referring  to  Niagara  : — 
'  I  felt  as  if  I  could  have  gone  over  with  the  waters :  it  would  be  so  beautiful  a 
death  :  there  would  be  no  fear  in  it.' — Life  of  H.  B.  Stowe,  p.  75,  pub.  1889. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  187 

opportunity  was  not  to  be  lost.  I  washed  and  dressed,  as  much  by 
feehng  as  by  sight,  opened  my  Venetian  shutters,  and  walked  out  into 
the  verandah  which  commands  a  fine  view  of  both  Falls. 

'  I  was  in  utter  solitude,  under  the  light  of  the  moon.  Not  in 
silence,  for  the  sound  of  many  waters  is  unceasing.  I  suppose  that 
for  thousands  of  years  Niagara  has  been  praising  her  Creator,  as  she 
does  now.  The  sound  is  not  at  all  noisy ;  on  the  contrary,  it  does 
not  disturb  conversation,  which  surprises  me. 

\.  '  I  sang  snatches  of  the  Hallelujah  Chorus,  as  I  looked  on  the 
waterfall  by  moonlight.  There  was  no  distinct  play  of  moonbeams 
on  the  water  ;  there  was  an  immense  amount  of  mist,—  one  felt  as  if 
looking  down  on  clouds.  Presently  the  clouds  in  the  sky  flushed 
rosy  in  the  dawn  ;  the  moon  grew  pale ;  Niagara  with  her  emerald 
green  more  distinct.  I  waited  till  I  had  seen  the  sunrise — it  was  not 
a  very  bright  one — and  then  1  retired  to  my  room,  and  went  to  sleep 
again.  .  .  .  Solitude  is  congenial  at  Niagara.  ...  I  do  not  care  to 
write  on  trifling  themes  now.  .  .  . 

'A  thought  came  to  my  mind  as  I  was  resting  just  now.  As 
photographs,  however  faithful,  convey  but  a  very  inadequate  idea  of 
the  real  Niagara,  so  must  our  highest  conceptions  of  Heaven  fall 
short  of  Heaven  itself.  Who  that  has  merely  seen  a  photograph, 
or  many  photographs,  of  the  Falls,  can  drink  in  the  beauty  of  the 
living,  bounding,  changing,  glorious  miracle  of  Nature,  which  is 
beheld  here?  Yet  Niagara  itself  is  but  a  bubble,  compared  with 
"  the  glory  which  shall  be  revealed." ' 

Towards  the  end  of  July  she  returned  home,  to  spend  a 
few  last  weeks  with  her  dear  ones  before  bidding  them 
a  long  farewell  and  going  forth  to  her  Indian  campaign. 
Through  all  these  weeks  she  does  not  seem  to  have 
relaxed  in  her  persevering  study  of  Hindustani,  or  in  her 
struggle  with  the  difficult  gutturals  which  had  to  be 
mastered.  Apart  from  this  she  must  have  had  enough  to 
occupy  her  time.  Among  lesser  employments,  she  is  said 
to  have  spent  hours  at  a  time  in  looking  through  her 
papers  and  letters — the  collection  of  a  literary  lifetime — 
and  consigning  masses  of  the  same  to  destruction.  One 
cannot  but  wish  that  the  destruction  had  been  less 
wholesale. 


i88  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

The  Dismissal  Meeting  of  Missionaries  was  on  the  nth 
of  October ;  and  two  or  three  days  later  the  Strathclyde 
sailed. 

To  most  of  her  relatives  the  parting  was  a  good  deal 
softened  by  the  conviction  that  Charlotte  Tucker  would 
surely  soon  find  herself  compelled  to  give  in,  and  to 
return  to  England.  One  of  her  nieces  can  say :  '  We  all 
thought,  when  she  left  us  for  India,  that  she  would  fail  in 
health,  and  be  obliged  to  come  home  again.  And  so  I 
could  stand  at  the  doorway,  and  watch  her  as  she  turned 
round  in  our  carriage  to  wave  her  last  good-bye,  without 
any  misgiving  that  it  was  indeed  the  last  time  that  I 
should  see  that  bright  smile.' 

But  her  sister,  Mrs.  Hamilton,  the  loved  Laura  of 
early  days,  had  a  truer  prescience  of  how  things  would 
be.  Speaking  afterwards  to  a  friend  about  that  day  of 
parting,  and  about  the  intense,  loving  devotion  which  had 
always  existed  between  them,  she  said  :  '  When  my  sister 
and  I  parted  from  one  another,  it  was  a  parting  for  ever 
on  Earth.  My  sister  will  not  return  to  England  on 
furlough,  as  other  Missionaries  do,  for  the  reason  that  she 
could  not  again  go  through  the  pain  of  separation.' 

At  the  time  little  was  said  in  letters  about  that  heart- 
rending pain.  It  had  to  be  endured,  and  it  was  endured 
courageously. 

So  ended  the  fifty-four  years  of  Charlotte  Maria 
Tucker's  English  Life.  She  turned  herself  now,  with  a 
smile  of  good  cheer,  to  the  eighteen  years  of  her  Indian 
Life — the  Evening  of  her  days.  Three-quarters  of  her 
tale  is  told,  counting  by  years.  Only  one-quarter  remains 
to  be  told. 

Fifty-four  years  of  preparation ;  and  then  the  Evening 
of  hard  toil.  Fifty-four  years  given  to  slow  perfecting  of 
the  instrument ;  and  then  eighteen  years  of  use  for  that 
instrument.     This  was  what  it  came   to.     Not  that  her 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  189 

English  life  had  been  without  its  uses  and  its  fruits ;  but 
the  long,  quiet  home-existence  had  doubtless  been  mainly 
a  making  ready — or  rather,  a  being  made  ready — for  that 
which  was  to  come  after.  The  first  was  subordinate  to 
the  second. 

Was  it  very  long  preparation  for  comparatively  short 
work?  But  the  worth  of  work  done  does  not  depend 
upon  the  length  of  time  occupied  in  the  doing.  We  may 
better  understand  this  if  we  think  of  our  Blessed  Lord's 
Life, — the  Thirty  Years  of  silent  preparation  and  waiting  ; 
and  then  the  Three  Years'  Ministry.  Each  moment  of 
His  Life  upon  Earth  bore  fruit ;  but  none  the  less,  those 
Thirty  Years  were  mainly  of  preparation  for  what  should 
follow. 

There  are  some  who  would  not  agree  with  Charlotte 
Tucker  in  considering  '  Missionary  work  of  all  work  the 
highest ' ;  yet  in  one  sense,  if  not  in  all  senses,  it  certainly 
is  so.  The  soldier  who  goes  on  a  forlorn-hope  expedition 
ranks  higher  in  the  minds  of  men  than  the  soldier  who 
remains  in  camp  ;  and  the  pioneer  is  counted  worthy  of 
more  honour  than  the  settler. 

We  hear  in  these  days  many  a  careless  sneer  levelled 
at  attempts  to  convert  the  Heathen,  at  the  uselessness  and 
fruitlessness  of  such  efforts.  Nothing  is  easier  than  for  a 
man,  sitting  at  home  in  his  luxurious  arm-chair,  to  flout 
those  who  go  forth  into  heathen  lands.  And  there  is  a 
certain  trick  of  seeming  common-sense  in  the  arguments 
used,  which  sounds  convincing.  So  much  money  spent, 
and  so  many  lives  sacrificed, — and  for  what?  Half-a- 
dozen  converts,  perhaps,  in  a  dozen  years,  some  of  whom 
prove  in  the  end  to  be  faithless,  while  others  are  very  far 
from  being  faultless  saints.    Is  the  result  worth  the  outlay  ? 

As  for  the  characters  of  some  of  the  converts,  we 
only  have  to  look  at  home,  and  to  see  for  ourselves  what 
the  average  civilised  and  well-taught  and  highly-trained 


I90  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Englishman  is — how  very  far  in  a  large  majority  of  cases 
from  being  either  blameless,  or  saintly,  or  entirely  faithful 
to  his  Baptismal  vows.  After  that  glance,  one  may  feel 
less  surprised  to  hear  of  failures  among  young  and 
untrained  converts,  the  whole  pull  of  whose  previous  lives 
has  been  utterly  adverse  to  Christianity ;  not  to  speak  of 
the  baneful  effects  of  a  surrounding  heathen  atmosphere, 
always  present  after  conversion. 

But  as  to  the  main  argument, — whether  the  result  is 
worth  the  outlay, — I  should  be  disposed  to  say  at  once 
frankly  that,  from  a  purely  mercantile  point  of  view,  it 
certainly  is  not.  Very  often  indeed  the  immediate  results, 
seen  to  follow  upon  Missionary  work,  are  not  at  all 
commensurate  with  the  amount  of  money  spent.  Many 
a  Missionary  has  given  his  time,  his  income,  his  life, 
his  all,  for  the  sake  of  no  apparent  results  in  his  own 
lifetime.  There  have  been  grand  men,  who  have  toiled 
steadily  on  through  ten  years,  twenty  years,  thirty  years  ; 
and  at  the  close,  if  they  have  had  any  converts  at  all  to 
show  for  their  labours,  those  converts  could  be  counted  on 
their  fingers. 

It  may  well  be  that  one  man  brought  out  of  the 
darkness  of  heathendom  is  a  prize  worth  fifty  times — or 
five  thousand  times — the  money  expended  in  bringing  him. 
But  this  would  not  be  seen  from  the  mercantile  point  of 
view.     Neither  does  it  touch  the  true  gist  of  the  question. 

A  little  story  told  of  the  great  Duke  of  Wellington,  so 
ardently  admired  by  Charlotte  Tucker,  shall  supply  us 
with  a  clue  here.  Whether  or  no  the  tale  it-self  be  genuine 
hardly  affects  its  value  as  bearing  on  the  subject.  A 
young  clergyman  is  stated  to  have  one  day,  in  the  presence 
of  the  Duke,  spoken  about  foreign  Missions  in  the 
disparaging  terms  often  affected  by  a  particular  class  of 
young  men.  One  can  exactly  picture  how  he  did  it, — 
the  supercilious  contempt  of  one  who  knew  little  about 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  191 

the  matter ;  and  the  careless  looking  down  upon  all  who 
did  not  agree  with  himself.     But  the  Iron  Duke  is  said 
to  have  responded  sternly  : — 
'  Sir,  you  forget  your  marching  orders, — "  Go 

YE  INTO  ALL  THE  WORLD,  AND  PREACH  THE  GOSPEL 
TO   EVERY  creature!'" 

If  the  Duke  did  not  speak  the  words,  they  sound  very 
like  what  he  would  have  spoken.  It  is  a  soldier's  view  of 
the  matter,  and  it  is  the  view  which  all  true  '  soldiers  and 
servants  of  Christ '  ought  to  take.  For  this  is  no  question 
of  mercantile  views,  of  business  arrangements,  of  what  will 
or  will  not  repay,  of  so  many  converts  more  or  less,  of 
success  and  failure.  This  is  not  in  any  wise  a  question  of 
results.  It  is  purely  and  simply  a  question  of  Obedience. 
The  Church  generally  is  commanded  to  preach  the  Gospel 
throughout  the  world  ;  whether  men  will  hear,  or  whether 
they  will  not.  Individuals  are  bound  to  go,  if  called^ — 
and  if  not  themselves  called,  they  are  bound  to  send 
others. 

All  of  us  who  are  Baptized  in  the  Name  of  the  Father, 
and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  are  bound  to  His 
Service  who  is  our  Royal  Master ;  and  His  orders  we 
have  unquestioningly  to  obey.  Whether  or  no  we  can  see 
the  wisdom,  the  necessity,  of  what  He  commands  to  be 
done,  makes  no  difference.  We  are  but  privates  in  His 
Army ;  and  a  private  has  no  business  with  an  opinion  of 
his  own  as  to  where  he  shall  go  or  what  he  shall  do  in  the 
time  of  war. 

When  the  '  noble  six  hundred  '  of  Balaclava  were  ordered 
to  charge  the  Russian  guns,  they  knew  the  uselessness  of 
the  act,  the  certainty  of  a  blunder  ;  but  with  that  they  had 
no  concern. 

'  Their's  not  to  make  reply, 
Their's  not  to  reason  why, 
Their's  but  to  do  and  die  ! ' 


192  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

And  though  with  our  Royal  Master  we  have  no  fear  of 
mistakes,  the  same  spirit  of  absolute  obedience  must  be 
ours,  whether  or  no  we  fully  see  the  reasons  for  each 
command.  What  would  be  thought  of  an  English  soldier 
who,  on  being  ordered  to  some  lonely  and  difficult  post, 
were,  instead  of  going  at  once,  to  begin  to  calculate 
whether  it  were  worth  while, — whether  the  cost  and  trouble 
of  his  going  would  be  sufficiently  repaid  by  results  ?  Yet 
such  is  the  spirit  in  which  certain  soldiers  of  the  Cross — 
somewhat  faithless  soldiers,  surely  ! — are  disposed  to  regard 
this  great  Marching  Order  of  our  Captain  and  King. 

Another  way  of  looking  upon  the  question  is  embodied 
in  certain  popular  ideas  that,  on  the  whole,  the  Heathen 
may  be  hardly  worse  off  as  Heathen  than  they  would  be 
as  Christians.  The  less  knowledge,  the  less  responsibility, 
we  are  told  ;  and  a  good  deal  of  cant  is  talked  on  this 
subject.  Those  who  have  seen  how  things  verily  are  in 
heathen  lands,  those  who  have  witnessed  the  awful  and 
desperate  cruelties  which  there  prevail,  know  what  the 
argument  is  worth  as  to  the  present  life.  While  as  to  the 
future, — let  it  be  fully  granted  that  ignorance  means  few 
stripes,  that  every  excuse  will  be  made  for  those  who  did 
not  and  could  not  know  better,  that  increase  of  knowledge 
must  of  necessity  mean  increase  of  responsibility.  But 
there  again  we  come  back  to  our  '  marching  orders.'  If 
Christ  died  for  the  heathen,  if  God  wills  that  they  shall 
know  the  Truth  and  shall  at  least  have  it  in  their  power 
to  rise  thereby  to  higher  levels,  what  are  we  to  dare  to 
decide  that  they  shall  be  left  in  darkness  ? 

The  whole  question  of  our  duty  as  Christians,  on  this 
point  as  on  all  others,  hinges  here, — Are  we  doing,  or 
are  we  not  doing,  that  which  God  wills  us  to  do?  All 
theories  respecting  outlays,  values,  results,  sink  into  utter 
insignificance  beside  this  question.  If  we  are  called  to 
go,  it  is  not  for  the  sake  of  honour,  it  is  not  for  the  sake 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  193 

even  of  success,  but  it  is  simply  for  the  doing  of  the  Will 
of  God.  If  we  are  bidden  to  remain  at  home,  it  is  still 
for  the  doing  of  His  Will, — and  that  Will  includes  the 
spreading  of  the  Church  of  Christ  throughout  the  world. 
Those  who  stay  at  home  can  at  least  help  those  who  go 
on  this  mission. 

In  the  matter  of  results  very  unreasonable  expectations 
are  often  formed.  The  best  results  do  not  commonly 
appear  at  once,  and  may  not  appear  for  a  lifetime.  A 
farmer  ploughs  his  land,  then  sows  his  seed,  and  then 
waits  months  for  the  harvest.  The  Church  too  frequently 
scratches  the  hard  ground  with  an  impatient  hand,  drops 
in  a  few  seeds,  and  immediately  breaks  into  lamentations, 
because  no  instantaneous  harvest  springs  forth. 

It  may  take  twenty  years  merely  to  plough  the  hard 
ground  in  some  heathen  spot,  and  to  sow  the  seed  ;  and 
years  more  may  pass  before  the  first  tokens  of  a  harvest 
are  seen.  Sometimes  the  fuller  results  are  the  longer 
delayed.  Mustard-seeds  spring  up  a  good  deal  faster 
than  acorns. 

The  main  work  of  Charlotte  Tucker's  eighteen  years 
was  to  be  that  of  ploughing.  And  whether  few  or  many 
converts  rewarded  her  toil  is  an  entirely  secondary  con- 
sideration. They  would  have  been  very  gratifying  to 
her  own  feelings,  no  doubt ;  and  that  said,  all  is  said. 
Results  there  were  ;  but  not  all  kinds  of  results  can  be 
reckoned  upon  one's  fingers.  Charlotte  Tucker  went  out 
in  obedience  to  what  she  felt  to  be  the  Divine  call,  the 
Divine  command.  So  long  as  she  was  steadily  en- 
deavouring to  do  the  Will  of  God,  results  might  very 
well  be  left  in  His  Hand.  The  Word  of  God  does  not 
return  to  Him  void  ;  but  naturally  its  working  is  not 
always  apparent  to  us. 


N 


PART     II 


LIFE    IN    INDIA 


*  O  Spirit  of  the  Lord,  prepare 

All  the  round  Earth  her  God  to  meet ; 
Breathe  Thou  abroad  like  morning  air, 
Till  hearts  of  stone  begin  to  beat. 

*  Baptize  the  Nations  ;  far  and  nigh 

The  triumphs  of  the  Cross  record  ; 
The  Name  of  Jesus  glorify 

Till  every  kindred  call  Him  Lord.' 


CHAPTER    I 

A.D.    1875 

FIRST   ARRIVAL   IN   INDIA 

In  the  second  week  of  October  1875,  Miss  Tucker  left 
English  shores,  never  to  return.  The  voyage  was  un- 
eventful, differing  therein  from  her  trip  to  Canada.  On 
its  very  next  voyage  the  good  ship  Strathclyde,  which 
carried  her  to  the  East,  went  down  within  sight  of  Dover. 
But  no  threaten  ings  of  such  a  catastrophe  disturbed 
A.  L.  O.  E.  on  her  way  out. 

A  fellow-passenger  on  board  the  Strathclyde  wrote  long 
afterwards : — 

*  My  first  introduction  to  A.  L.  O.  E.  was  when  I  was  lying  in  all 
the  helplessness  of  the  first  days  of  my  first  voyage,  quite  unable 
to  stir  from  the  deck.  I  became  conscious  of  a  grey-haired  lady 
stooping  over  me,  offering  some  eau  de  cologne,  and  with  a  winning 
smile  asking  if  she  could  do  anything  for  me.  She  was  a  good 
sailor,  and  in  those  miserable  days  moved  about  amongst  the  sea- 
sick passengers  like  an  angel  of  mercy.  Even  then  dear  Miss 
Tucker  looked  very  frail  and  delicate ;  and  one  could  scarcely 
have  expected  that  she  would  be  spared  for  eighteen  years  to  work 
in  all  the  heat  and  discomfort  of  India.  One  thing  remarkable 
about  her  on  that  voyage  was  the  influence  she  had  over  the  men 
on  board, — some  of  them  quite  indifferent,  if  not  hostile,  to  religion. 
No  one  could  withstand  her  genial,  loving  ways  ;  and  it  was  a  sight 
to  be  remembered,  to  see  her  gathering  the  young  fellows  round 
the  piano,  while  she  led  off  in  some  old  English  ditty.' 

Her  own  letters  to  Mrs  Hamilton,  while  on  board,  are 

197 


198  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

cheery  as  usual,  and  speak  no  word  of  pain  or  longing 
for  all  that  she  had  left  behind  ;  indeed  the  very  first  ends 
merrily :  '  Please  give  my  kindest  love  to  your  dearest 
girl,  and  tell  her  that  I  have  already  hung  up  her  famous 
bag.  I  hope  that  no  ayah  will  bag  it !  I  could  not  resist 
the  pun,  bad  as  it  is.' 

There  were  five  ayahs  on  board,  and  she  soon  struck 
up  an  acquaintance  with  one  of  them, — a  Christian  ayah, 
— reading  aloud  her  Hindustani  Bible,  and  delighted  to 
find  that  the  ayah  could  understand  what  was  read.  '  I 
am  bribing  one  to  teach  me,'  she  wrote.  '  The  ayahs 
ought  to  be  glad  to  help ;  for  they,  at  least  two  or 
three  of  them,  seem  to  regard  me  as  a  kind  of  supple- 
mentary nurse,  and  if  they  want  to  go  to  work  make 
over  the  baby  to  me.'  In  the  same  letter  she  states  : 
'  We  have  a  strong  Missionary  force  on  board  ;  two  Scotch- 
men, the  wife  of  one  of  them,  and  six  Missionary  ladies. 
We  have  not  quarrelled  at  all ;  but  then,  most  of  us  have 
been  sea-sick  ! ' — again  a  little  glimmer  of  fun.  '  We  lady 
Missionaries  get  on  very  well  together,'  she  says  in  another 
letter.  *  Very  gentle  and  modest  are  the  Misses  A.,  "your 
pretty  girls,"  as  Lady  I.  called  them  to-day.' 

As  to  amusements  on  board,  she  wrote  : — 

'Lady  I.  has  started  a  game  which  dear  Leila  and  Fred  may 
add  to  their  store  at  Christmas.  She  wrote  something,  missing 
out  all  adjectives.  A  gentleman  went  round  and  collected  adjectives 
haphazard  from  the  passengers,  inserting  them  in  the  places  left 
blank.  The  piece  was  then  read  out.  It  was  a  description  of  the 
voyage  and  many  of  the  passengers.  Of  course  nobody  could  be 
offended,  because  the  adjectives  came  haphazard.  But  how  your 
young  folk  would  have  laughed  when,  amongst  other  personages 
described,  came — "  Miss  Tucker,  oi  2i  grandiloquent  disposition,  with 
other  bouncing  Missionary  ladies."' 

About  a  fortnight  later  she  wrote  : — 

'A  contrast  to  is  Mr.  S.,  the  competition-wallah,  probably 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  199 

the  most  highly  educated  man  in  the  ship.  I  look  upon  him  as  the 
Squire  of  the  Mission  ladies.  In  his  most  quiet,  proper  fashion,  he 
is  ever  ready  to  do  our  behests  ;  and  he  never  seems  to  tire  of 
hymn-singing.  ,  .  .  He  has  evidently  plenty  of  moral  courage.  The 
very  funniest  thing  was  that  Mr.  S.  was  actually  present  at  the 
solemn  conclave  held  by  us  six  M.  L.^  to  decide  whether  we  could 
conscientiously  attend  a  second  theatrical  amateur  performance, 
Mr.  S.  having  been  the  principal  actor  in  the  first  one,  which  we 
did  attend.  It  was  as  if  Garrick  had  been  present  at  a  Clapham 
conference  on  the  subject  of  whether  it  were  right  to  go  to  see  him 
act !  !  !  Mr.  S.  was  very  amiable  and  good  :  he  had  taken  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  to  amuse  the  passengers,  and  his  part  was  perfectly 
unexceptionable ;  but  if  we  all  absent  ourselves  next  time  I  do  not 
think  that  he  will  take  any  offence.  I  proposed  that  we  should  all 
sleep  over  the  matter,  one  of  my  reasons  being  that  I  could  not  but 
feel  Mr.  S.'s  presence  a  little  embarrassing.  On  the  following  day 
we  met  without  him,  and  decided  that  the  question  is  to  be  an  open 
one  ;  each  M.  L.  is  to  judge  according  to  her  own  conscience.  I 
believe  that  we  shall  divide ;  but  this  is  not,  we  have  agreed,  to 
disturb  the  harmony  between  the  M.  L.' 

After  a  few  days  spent  in  *  bright,  beautiful  Bombay ' 
— these  are  her  own  words — she  proceeded  by  rail  with 
one  companion  to  Allahabad.  A  pause  at  Jabalpur  had 
been  planned,  but  this  fell  through ;  and  they  accom- 
plished the  whole  long  journey  of  845  miles  without  a 
break.  Wisely,  her  friends  had  insisted  on  first-class, 
and  she  was  none  the  worse  for  the  fatigue.  On  the  very 
morning  of  her  arrival  at  Allahabad  she  could  say :  *  I 
had  a  nice  warm  bath,  and  then  a  good  breakfast,  and  I 
feel  almost  as  fresh  as  if  I  had  not  travelled  845  miles 
at  a  stretch,  but  merely  taken  a  little  drive.  Think  how 
strong  I  must  be  ! ' 

Later  in  the  same  letter,  a  long  and  cheery  one,  bearing 
no  signs  of  fatigue,  she  speaks  of  Mr.  George  Bowen, 
an  American  Missionary,  who  had  *  laboured  without  in- 
termission for  twenty-eight  years'  in  the  East,  and  who 

^  Missionary  Ladies, 


200  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

was  known   among   Natives   as  '  the    English   Faqir,'   on 
account  of  his  wandering  and  self-denying  life. 

*  He  will  take  no  salary,'  she  wrote, '  but  has  earned  his  own  living, 
I  hear,  by  teaching,  supporting  himself  on  the  merest  trifle.  I 
esteem  it  a  great  honour  that  I  sat  beside  him  at  breakfast  at  the 
Zenana  Mission  House  last  Thursday.  Mr.  Bowen  looks  quite  skin 
and  bone,  wondrously  thin,  but  not  in  the  least  unhealthy,  but  as  if 
there  were  plenty  of  work  in  him  still.  He  told  me  that  he  does  not 
"  believe  in  age."  He  seems  to  feel  as  fresh  as  he  did  twenty-eight 
years  ago  ;  and  yet  at  the  beginning  of  his  career  he  was  so  fearfully 
ill  that  his  life  was  given  up,  and  he  wrote  his  farewell  to  his  mother. 
As  India  has  agreed  so  splendidly  with  Mr.  Bowen,  I  asked  him — 
as  I  generally  do  those  who  thrive  in  the  climate — whether  he  drank 
only  water.  "  Tea,"  he  repHed,  smiling.  He  gave  his  opinion  that 
to  take  stimulant  here  is  "  the  way  to  have  to  leave  the  country." 
Almost  all  the  Missionaries  whom  I  have  met  appear  to  be  water- 
drinkers.  I  am  particularly  dehghted  with  the  American  Missionaries 
whom  I  have  seen.  ...  I  am  ashamed  of  ever  having  had  a  prejudice 
against  Yankees.     I  am  attracted  also  by  Native  Christian  ladies.' 

On  her  way  up-country  she  came  in  for  the  wedding 
of  a  Missionary  lady,  and  after  her  usual  fashion  she  was 
most  active  in  helping ;  working  hard  at  the  making  of 
wreaths  and  at  the  decoration  of  the  Ludhiana  Church 
porch.  As  the  married  pair  were  about  to  drive  off,  rice 
was  brought  to  be  thrown  ;  but  somebody  present  objected 
to  the  custom  for  India,  as  originally  heathen,  and  liable 
to  be  misunderstood.  '  Then  the  horses  shall  have  it ! ' 
declared  Miss  Tucker ;  and  with  two  hands  well  filled 
she  went  to  the  horse's  heads,  and  fed  them,  amid  much 
laughter,  in  which  she  heartily  joined.  Her  own  descrip- 
tion of  the  event  is  overflowing  with  spirit  and  enjoyment. 
It  is  dated  November  30. 

'  I  have  just  come  in  to  rest  a  bit,  and  wash  my  soiled  hands,— 
for  what  do  you  think  that  I  have  been  about  ?— at  the  express 
request  of  the  bride,  helping  to  decorate  the  church  for  her  wedding, 
which  is  to  come  off  to-day.  This  house  is  jammed  full— that  is  to 
say,  a  good  deal  more  full  than  is  comfortable ;  but  the  kind  folk 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  201 

would  not  hear  of  my  leaving  till  after  the  wedding,  so  I  do  not 
go  to  my  home  till  to-morrow  morning.  Indian  railways  are  regard- 
less of  convenient  hours.  I,  who  was  up  this  morning  soon  after 
five,  must  be  up  to-morrow  morning  soon  after  three.  Of  course 
I  had  to  arrive  here  by  starlight ;  and  on  the  same  night  there  had 
been  another  arrival  at  one  A.M.  .  .  .  There  is  a  grand  tamasha^ 
about  the  wedding.  Every  one  seems  pleased.  It  is  Missionary 
wedding  Missionary,  and — ^perhaps  I  had  better  go  and  make  my- 
self useful.  .  .  . 

''Later.  Oh,  such  a  pretty  wedding  !  The  little  church  fresh 
white-washed  within,  clean  as  a  wedding-cake.  The  porch  almost 
like  a  bower.  A  border  of  flowers  on  either  side  up  the  centre 
made  a  kind  of  path.  Then  the  presence  of  the  school-girls  in  their 
white  chaddahs  ;  the  number  of  Natives  in  their  picturesque  costumes, 
— both  Christians  and  heathen,  inside  the  church  and  looking  in 
from  the  outside, — all  made  a  charming  scene. 

'But  before  we  went  to  church,  a  Begum,  a  royal  lady,  grand- 
daughter of  Shah-Soojah,  came  to  see  the  fun.  And  only  fancy, 
Laura,  I  was  left  for  perhaps  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  entertain  the 
fine  old  lady.  Would  not  your  Fred  and  Leila  have  laughed  to 
have  seen  me,  making  gallant  efforts  to  keep  up  conversation  with 
my  dreadfully  bad  Hindustani.  I  dashed  at  it,  tried  to  explain  why 
I  wore  a  black  dress  when  I  had  lilac  and  blue  ones  at  Amritsar, 
told  her  that  I  had  never  been  married,  answered  questions  regard- 
ing my  family,  etc.  The  Begum  laughed,  and  I  laughed,  for  I  knew 
that  my  Hindustani  was  very  bad  ;  but  I  did  remember  always  to 
use  the  respectful  "  Ap  "^  to  the  princess. 

'  Presently  the  dear  old  Missionary,  Mr.  Rudolph,  appeared.  The 
"  pardah  "  ^  lady,  on  seeing  a  man,  hid  behind  an  arm-chair.  But 
when  I  told  her  that  it  was  "  Rudolph  Sahib,"  the  old  lady  said  that 
he  was  her  father,  and  that  she  would  make  her  salaam  to  him.  I 
hear  that  the  Begum  is  almost  a  Christian,  and  she  can  read. 
Wrapped  in  her  chaddah,  she  walked  with  me  to  church,  and  stayed 
through  the  service.  I  was  close  behind  her.  When  it  was  over,  I 
managed  to  say  a  little  sentence  to  her  in  rather  better  Hindustani, 
"  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  here  ;  He  gives  blessing."  The  Begum 
gave  a  sound  of  assent.' 

Next  day,  the  first  of  December,  Charlotte  Tucker 
reached  Amritsar, —the  spot  which  she  fully  expected  to 

1  Show.  2  Honorary  mode  of  address.  3  Pronounced  purdah. 


202  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

be  her  home  for  many  a  year  to  come.  But  Amritsar  was 
only  a  stage  on  the  road  to  Batala,  where  her  Indian  work 
really  lay. 

All  who  know  aught  of  India  know  the  name  of  *  The 
Panjab ' ;  ^  that  province  to  the  far  north,  a  land  of  five 
great  rivers,  where  in  Mutiny  days  so  much  was  done  for 
the  preservation  of  our  Indian  Empire.  Amritsar  ^  is  one 
of  the  larger  cities  of  the  Panjab,  containing  a  population 
of  about  135,000  inhabitants, — Hindus,  Muhammadans, 
and  Sikhs.  It  is  the  Holy  City  of  the  Sikhs,  and  has 
their  '  golden  temple,'  wherein  they  worship,  and  wherein 
also  is  kept  their  sacred  book,  the  '  Granth.' 

Missionary  work  has  been  mainly  carried  on  in  the 
Panjab  by  the  Church  Missionary  Society ;  just  as,  in 
many  parts  of  Bengal,  Missionary  work  has  been  mainly 
carried  on  by  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospel.  Where  the  one  great  Church  Society  has 
obtained  a  footing,  the  other  great  Church  Society  does 
not  interfere  in  either  case,  but  goes  elsewhere  in  the 
Mission  field.  It  is  greatly  to  be  wished  that  this  spirit 
of  courtesy  were  more  widely  seen  in  the  working  of 
Missions  generally  among  the  heathen.  During  late  years 
the  ladies  of  the  Church  Zenana  Society  have  come  in  as 
an  additional  help  to  the  Societies  above-named, — as  true 
'handmaids,'  alike  in  the  Panjab  and  in  other  parts  of  India. 

The  Mission  premises  are  about  half-a-mile  distant  from 
the  City  of  Amritsar.  A.  L.  O.  E.'s  first  Indian  home 
was  here ;  in  a  bungalow,  surrounded  by  a  large  com- 
pound or  garden  which  was  part  of  the  Mission  premises. 
When  she  arrived,  in  the  beginning  of  December,  roses 
were  in  full  bloom,  as  well  as  abundantly-flowering  shrubs 
and  creepers.  The  great  banyan-tree,  which  grew  and  still 
grows  in  front  of  the  bungalow,  was  soon  named  by  Miss 
Tucker  '  The  Mission  Tree.' 

1  Pronounced  Punjab.  2  Pronounced  Umritsar. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  203 

A  warm  welcome  was  given  to  her  by  the  Missionary 
ladies  living  there  : — Miss  Emily  Wauton,  who  still  labours 
on  in  the  same  spot,  though  nearly  twenty  years  have 
passed  since  that  day ;  Mrs.  Elmslie,  widow  of  Dr. 
Elmslie,  the  Pioneer  of  Missionary  work  in  Cashmere;  Miss 
Florence  Swainson  ;  and  Miss  Ada  Smith ; — not  to  speak 
of  the  C.M.S.  Missionary  gentleman  living  close  by. 

After  her  wont,  Miss  Tucker  was  very  eager,  very 
bright,  very  anxious  to  become  immediately  one  of  the 
little  circle.  That  first  evening,  as  they  sat  round  the 
table,  she  said  :  '  I  don  't  want  to  be  "  Miss  Tucker"  here. 
Can't  you  all  call  me  "  Charlotte  Maria "  ? '  The  ladies 
naturally  demurred.  '  We  could  not  possibly,'  they  said. 
Miss  Tucker's  face  fell  a  little ;  then  came  a  happy 
thought,  and  she  brightened  up.  '  Call  me  "  Auntie," ' 
she  said.  *  So  many  call  me  "  Auntie."  All  of  you  must 
do  so.' 

*But  we  cannot  directly.  We  don't  know  you  yet,' 
objected  the  others  again. 

She  was  very  much  delighted  when  Mr.  Rowland 
Bateman,  one  of  the  Missionaries,  began  the  same  even- 
ing, without  hesitation,  to  speak  to  her  as  '  Auntie.' 

Soon  after,  news  came  of  the  death  of  her  brother,  Mr. 
Henry  Carre  Tucker.  It  was  needful  to  arrange  for  her 
mourning  ;  and  pending  the  arrival  of  other  things,  one  of 
the  younger  ladies  offered  to  alter  for  her  an  old  black 
silk  dress  which  she  had.  Going  to  her  room,  the  young 
lady  knocked  and  said,  '  Miss  Tucker,  may  I  have  the 
dress  now  ? '  No  answer.  Another  attempt ; — and  '  No 
Miss  Tucker  here  ! '  was  the  result.  '  Unless  you  call  me 
"  Auntie,"  you  will  not  have  it'  *  But  how  can  I  so  soon  ? 
I  don't  know  you  yet,'  was  once  more  the  unavailing  plea. 
Miss  Tucker  had  her  way,  however ;  and  thenceforward 
she  became  'Auntie'  to  an  ever-increasing  circle  of 
nephews  and  nieces  in  India. 


204  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Some  extracts  from  her  own  letters,  written  to  Mrs. 
Hamilton  in  the  December  of  1875,  will  give,  far  better 
than  words  of  mine  can  do,  the  impressions  received  in 
her  new  position. 

''December  2,  1875. 

'  It  is  early  morning,  before  6  a.m.,  my  first  morning  in  my  new 
home.  A  cock  has  been  crowing,  otherwise  everything  is  profoundly 
still.  I  hear  a  cart  in  the  distance.  You  will  like  to  hear  something 
of  my  surroundings. 

'  Mrs.  ElmsHe  came  to  meet  me  at  the  station  ;  also  Mr.  Clark  and 
Mr.  Baring.  It  was  slightly  bewildering,  for,  says  Mr.  Clark,  "the 
Bishop  wants  to  see  you  ;  he  and  Miss  Milman  are  to  go  off  by  this 
train."  Now  the  thought  most  in  my  mind  was,  "  I  won't  let  poor  dear 
Miss  F.i  think  that  I  desert  her  for  new  acquaintances."  She  also 
was  going  on  by  the  train  ;  but  there  was  a  pause  at  Amritsar  station 
for  perhaps  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  So  I  had  to  be  agreeable  to  the 
Bishop,  Miss  F.,  and  all, — and  keep  Mrs.  Elmslie  waiting  besides. 

'  This  is  a  splendid  room  of  mine  .  .  .  about  twenty-four  feet  each 
way,  and  so  lofty.  I  am  surprised  at  the  elegance  of  these  Indian 
bungalows.  Please  put  from  your  mind  all  idea  of  hardship?  I  have 
now  lived  in  four  bungalows,  and  all  have  elegant  rooms,  and  there  is 
such  an  air  of  refinement  that  I  have  great  doubts  whether  it  would  be 
the  correct  thing  to  put  out  my  hand  and  take  a  slice  of  bread  off  a 
plate.  Mrs.  Elmslie  is  a  lovely  lady,  tall,  slight,  fair ;  but  however 
tall,  a  lady  every  inch  of  her ;  she  might  be  a  Countess  with  her 
meek  dignity.  .  .  .' 

'  December  9. 

'  I  directed  via  Briitdisi  my  sad  letters  to  the  almost  broken-hearted 
mourners,  and  I  thought,  "  I  will  write  no  more  by  this  mail.  I 
should  only  write  on  one  theme,  my  precious,  noble  Henry."  But  I 
have  since  thought  that  I  was  wrong  in  this  determination.  My  own 
sweet  Laura  will  be  closing  a  heavy  year.  ...  If  I  can  turn  the 
channel  of  sad  thoughts,  it  is  better  that  I  should  write,  and  not  only 
on  one  theme.  She  will  like  to  hear  of  my  home  and  my  work,  and 
I  ought  to  write  to  the  darling  !  .  .  . 

'  What  shall  I  say  of  Mrs.  Elmslie  ?     She  is  one  of  a  million.     I 

1  Her  travelling  companion  from  Bombay. 

2  Considerable  allowance  here  and  elsewhere  must  be  made  for  Miss  Tucker's 
habit  of  seeing  things  as  far  as  possible  coideur-de-rose.  Large  rooms  in  the 
Indian  climate  are,  moreover,  not  a  mere  luxury,  but  a  necessity  for  health. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  205 

never  met  with  any  woman  in  my  life  so  like  an  angel  without  wings. 
Tall,  fair,  elegant,  graceful,  with  a  face  that  Ary  Scheffer  might  have 
chosen  to  paint  for  a  seraph, — her  soul  seems  to  correspond  to  her 
external  appearance.  Saintly  as  she  is,  she  is  not  in  the  least 
gloomy  ;  she  tries  to  make  all  happy,  and  is  business-like  and 
practical,  flitted  to  grace  a  drawing-room,  she  throws  her  heart 
into  school-work,  and  seems  to  manage  the  house  beautifully.  It  will 
give  you  an  idea  how  winning  she  is,  when  I  tell  you  that  Miss  Wauton 
and  Miss  Hasell  call  Mrs.  Elmslie  "  Mother,"  "  Mother  dear,"  though 
the  name  seems  strange  from  one  who  looks  quite  as  old  as  herself 
You  should  see  Mrs.  Elmslie  with  a  black  baby  in  her  arms,  looking 
at  it  with  such  loving  tenderness  and  pleasure  too,  just  as  its  guardian 
angel  might.  .  .  . 

'  I  must  not  fill  up  all  my  letter  with  my  sweet  friend,  and  it  is  nearly 
time  that  I  should  take  my  morning  walk.  I  always  take  a  rapid 
one  in  the  compound,  which  is  large,  with  a  good  many  trees  and 
nice  flowering  shrubs  in  it.  I  hope  always  to  keep  up  the  habit, 
which  is  so  very  conducive  to  health  ;  but  of  course  I  shall  not  walk 
%ofast  when  the  hot  weather  comes. 

'  It  may  give  you  a  little  idea  of  life  here,  if  I  describe  yesterday's 
occupations. 

'  I  rose  about  six,  dressed,  and  wrote  a  little.  My  Ayah  brought 
me  early  breakfast.  I  went  out  and  took  my  walk,  then  returned  and 
prepared  for  my  Munshi.^  He  is  a  convert,  and  was  baptized  last 
month,  with  his  two  little  children.  The  Maulvi,  as  we  call  him,  is  a 
dear  good  man,  but  too  indulgent  for  a  teacher.  He  is  not  particular 
enough  in  correcting  my  faults.  I  have  an  hour  with  him  before 
breakfast ;  and  after  the  meal  comes  family  worship — the  morning 
hymn,  prayer,  and  chapter,  always  in  Urdu. 

'After  prayers  yesterday  I  returned  for  a  short  time  to  my  room 
and  occupations.  I  was  engaged  to  go  to  "the  city" — within  the 
walls  of  Amritsar — with  Mrs.  Elmslie  ;  for  it  is  desirable  that  I 
should  see  work  going  on.  The  conveyance  is  a  kind  of  large  box  of 
a  carriage,  contrived  to  let  in  air  and  keep  out  sun.  Yesterday  we 
went  to  four  native  houses  ;  Mrs.  Elmslie  went  to  a  fifth,  but  went 
alone.  Such  strange  narrow  lanes  one  has  to  go  through  ;  sometimes 
on  foot  where  the  gari  could  not  go,  mounting  up  to  the  first  floor  of 
the  houses  by  very  steep  steps.  .  .  . 

'  We  returned  home  after  our  city  visits,  and  had  dinner.  Yester- 
day being  Wednesday,  after  dinner  we  went  to  church  ;  we  always 

1  Teacher. 


2o6  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

attend  the  Native  church.  As  the  prayers  are  a  translation  of  our 
own  Liturgy,  I  can  join  in  them  well  enough,  but  I  can  yet  make  very 
little  of  the  sermon.  .  .  . 

'  I  find  it  a  good  plan  to  go  to  Mrs.  Elmslie's  Orphanage,  and  sit 
and  listen  to  the  lessons,  and  thus  learn  myself.  The  girls  in  their 
white  chaddars  ^  look,  generally  speaking,  well  and  happy.  I  was  to 
have  amused  some  of  the  younger  ones  last  Sunday  with  Bible 
pictures  ;  but  when  I  had  had  the  sad  letters  I  gave  up  my  intention 
of  helping  sweet  Mrs.  Elmslie  in  this  way.  I  hope  to  do  so  another 
time.' 

''December  13. 

'  I  have  so  much  to  interest  me  here,  and  every  one  is  so  kind. 
...  I  call  this  bungalow  "  House  Beautiful,"  on  account  of  the 
dwellers  within  it.  It  is  also  a  nice  refined  place,  with  an  extensive 
compound,  and  plenty  of  trees  and  flowers.  If  I  were  not  so  busy  I 
should  like  to  send  you  a  sketch  of  it ;  but  daylight  seems  too  short 
for  what  I  want  to  do ;  and  when  once  my  mouth  is  really  opened, 
I  shall  feel  as  if  I  never  could  get  through  all  the  interesting  work 
that  is  to  be  done.  The  ladies  here  have  a  kind  of  general  super- 
intendence of  twenty-two  schools — not  Christian — but  where  they 
are  allowed  to  teach  the  Bible.     Fancy  what  an  opening  ! ' 

TO   MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

'Dec.  13. 
'  There  are  some  things  in  Indian  life  which  would  strike  you  as 
curious.  For  instance,  I  \v2c^^five  glass  doors  to  my  bedroom.  One 
alone  is  never  opened  .  .  .  but  through  all  the  others  people, 
especially  my  Ayah,  come  in  ;  and  she  never  knocks.  .  .  .  Folk  can 
walk  in  from  the  outside  of  the  house  through  two  of  my  glass  doors. 
It  is  a  very  public  sort  of  living,  but  it  is  Indian  fashion.  The  great 
thing  is  to  let  in  abundance  of  air  ;  and  where  air  comes  in  other 
things  come  in  too.  I  have,  however,  "  chick "  blinds  to  my  outer 
doors  ;  these  are  made  of  thin  split  bamboos  ;  and  if  I  let  them  down, 
no  one  can  see  in.  Of  course  they  would  not  keep  out  my  dear  little 
Ayah  ;  she  can  always  pop  in  by  lifting  the  chicks.  She  is  the  only 
one  who  really  laughs  at  my  bad  Urdu.  .  .  .  My  Munshi  laughs  a 
little,  but  not  in  the  same  way.     He  is  gentle  and  pleasing.' 

TO  MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'Dec.ii. 
'  I  have  been  waiting  to  write  to  you  till  the  tardy  mail  should 

1  Pronounced  chuddars. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  207 

come  in.  But  why  wait  any  longer,  when  I  have  always  so  much  to 
say  to  my  Laura  now? — only  I  lack  time — and  light— for  this  is  the 
shortest  day,  and  the  houses  are  built  to  keep  out  light,  which  comes 
in  underneath  a  heavy  verandah,  so  that  I  am  sometimes  obliged  to 
feel  rather  than  to  see.  .  .  . 

'  I  did  not  open  my  picture-box  for  some  time  after  my  arrival,  but 
when  it  was  opened  it  would  have  pleased  you  to  have  seen  the 
pleasure  given  by  its  contents,  including  your  lovely  tidies.  Mrs. 
Elmslie  was  eager  as  a  girl,  settling  where  the  different  pictures  were 
to  be  hung,  jumping  up  on  chairs,  and  keeping  us  up  beyond  our 
usual  hour  for  retiring,  for  she  could  not  bear  to  leave  the  picture- 
question  unsettled.  We  had  consultation,  trying  this  place  and  that 
place  on  the  walls,  trying  to  balance  sides  and  keep  all  things  straight. 
For  the  angel-lady  likes  to  have  everything  pretty.  ...  It  seems 
to  me  as  if  both  England  and  America  had  sent  their  cream  to 
India.  But  then  Amritsar  is  a  specially  favoured  place.  ...  As  is 
natural  where  the  Missionaries  are  first-rate,  there  is  a  great  deal 
of  leaven  working  amongst  the  heathen.' 

TO   MISS   '  LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

'  Dec.  23. 

'  Though  I  posted  a  letter  to  your  sweet   Mother  only  yesterday, 

perhaps  I  had  better  tell  you  of  my  visit  to  the  Zenana  of whilst 

it  is  fresh  in  my  mind.  Dear  C,  Miss  H.,  and  myself  went  to-day  to 
visit  this  Muhammadan  house.  It  is  a  handsome  one,  in  the  midst  of 
fine  park-like  grounds  ;  and  from  the  lofty  verandah  we  had  a  better 
view  of  part  of  our  city  than  I  have  seen  before. 

'  The  Muhammadan  Sahib  has  three  wives.  I  suppose  that  they 
were  the  three  middle-aged  or  elderly  native  women  who  sat  on  a 
bed  ;  the  other  five  women  present,  old  or  young,  may  have  been 
servants  ;  but  one  of  them,  a  handsome  girl,  with  very  dashing  nose- 
ring, and  eyelids  blackened  on  the  edges,  native-fashion,  shook  hands 
with  us  as  well  as  served  us.  There  were  a  fair  number  of  free-and- 
easy  little  dark  children  playing  about.  The  eldest  is  C.'s  pupil ;  and 
one  of  the  first  things  done  was  to  hear  her  repeat  her  part  in  a  kind 
of  catechism — Christian,  of  course. 

'  One  of  the  ladies  smoked  a  hookah  ;  had  it  been  even  invisible, 
we  should  have  been  made  sensible  of  its  presence  by  an  occasional 
bubble-bubble  sound,  and  then  a  perfume — to  our  minds  by  no  means 
odoriferous.  Another  lady  had  her  teeth  horridly  blackened  by  what 
she  had  been  chewing  ;  but,  generally  speaking,  the  natives'  teeth  are 


2o8    LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

very  nice  and  white.  ...  I  showed  off  my  beautiful  chatelaine,  your 
dear  Father's  gift,  which  I  think  pleased  ;  and  Miss  H,  showed  hers, 
which  is  quite  different  in  style.  You  must  not  suppose  that  this  was 
a  mere  visit  of  amusement.  .  .  .  No,  we  had  Bible-reading  and 
hymn-singing ;  and  afterwards  C.  was  evidently  holding  a  religious 
discussion  with  the  elder  lady. 

''Dec.  24. — I  find  that  only  two  of  the  ladies  were  wives  of  the 
Sahib  ;  the  third  was  somebody's  relation. 

'  Mr,  Clark  ^  approves  of  my  Oriental  tale,  only  he  wishes  some 
names  altered.  He  is  going  to  give  me  a  list  of  names,  Muhammadan 
and  Hindu,' 

TO   MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'' Christmas  Day  1875. 

'  I  was  awakened  in  the  night  by  the  Indian  Waits,  children  singing 
in  the  language  of  the  Sikhs  .  .  .  one  of  their  native  airs.  My 
little  Ayah  came  up  to  me  and  shook  hands  when  she  entered 
my  room  early  in  the  morning, — is  not  this  the  great  Day,  and  is 
not  she  a  Christian  ? — so  she  may  indeed  rejoice  and  be  glad  in 
it.  I  have  prepared  little  presents  for  the  dear  ladies  here,  except 
C,  to  whom  I  gave  a  wedding-present  yesterday.  I  will  pause 
now,  and  go  on  later  in  the  day,  when  I  may  better  describe 
our  Indian  Christmas.  6^  a.m.  Orphans  singing  hymns  at  the  top 
of  their  voices.  They  are  evidently  very  happy.  They  are  to  have 
a  Christmas  tree. 

'  Later. — I  have  come  home  from  church,  from  receiving  the  Holy 
Communion.  Thank  God,  the  sheaves  are  being  gathered  in  ! 
What  would  dear  Henry  Martyn  not  have  given  to  have  seen  what  I 
saw  to-day  ?  So  many  Natives  remained  to  share  the  holy  Feast,  men 
and  women,  young  and  old, — in  our  little  church  there  must  have 
been  nearly  if  not  quite  fifty  communicants.  I  received  the  Cup  from 
the  hand  of  a  Native.  I  felt  the  scene  quite  affecting.  It  is  a  great 
privilege  to  be  in  India,  and  specially  now,  when  the  blades  are 
ripening, — though,  oh,  how  few  in  number,  compared  with  the 
Muhammadans  and  heathen  ! 

'  After  church  and  luncheon  I  went  to  the  Orphanage  Garden,  to 
help  sweet  Margaret  ^  to  deck  the  Christmas  Tree.  In  less  than 
half  an  hour  the  little  guests  are  to  be  summoned  to  receive  their 
dolls,  tops,  books,  etc.     I  expect  a  charming  scene.' 

1  The  Rev.  Robert  Clark.  2  Mrs.  Elmslie. 


CHAPTER    II 

A.D.  1875-1876 

A   HOME   IN   AMRITSAR 

In  the  previous  spring,  when  first  Charlotte  Tucker 
decided  to  go  out,  she  wrote  in  one  letter  a  statement  of 
the  financial  plan  to  be  followed.  *  I  have  arranged  with 
the  Society,'  she  said,  '  to  pay  200  rupees  a  quarter  for  my 
board  and  lodging,  exclusive  of  Munshi  ^  and  conveyance.' 
For  this  she  had  been  told  to  expect  a  bedroom  and  a 
bathroom  ;  meals  being  taken  with  the  other  Missionaries. 
She  had  also  been  told  that  she  would  require  an  Ayah 
and  '  half  a  tailor.'  '  I  do  not  want  superfluities,'  she  wrote ; 
'  for  mine  is  a  modest  income,  and  I  should  not  like  to 
spend  it  all  on  myself.' 

Modest  though  it  might  be,  she  gave  away  largely, 
restricting  herself  to  a  limited  amount,  and  practising 
great  economy.  After  being  for  a  while  in  India,  she 
seems  to  have  been  strongly  impressed  with  a  dread  of 
needless  luxuries,  and  to  have  become  eager  to  set  an 
example  of  extreme  simplicity  in  the  Missionary  life.  The 
rigid  simplicity  which  she  cultivated  was,  no  doubt,  partly 
a  matter  of  pure  economy,  that  she  might  have  the  more 
to  give  away, — partly  a  matter  of  her  innate  generosity ; 
but  partly  also  it  arose  from  a  deep-rooted  desire  to 
remove  the  reproach,  which  has  of  late  been  often  levelled 

1  Teacher. 


2IO  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

at  the  ease  and  luxury,  real  or  supposed,  of  many 
Missionaries  in  India  or  elsewhere. 

It  is  always  a  difficult  question  to  decide  in  such  cases 
what  does  or  does  not  constitute  luxury.  For  example, 
the  number  of  servants  kept,  which  often  startles  an 
Englishman,  is  unavoidable  to  some  extent,  arising  from 
the  very  low  wages  given,  and  the  small  amount  of  work 
which  each  servant  will  undertake.  Indian  servants  sleep 
often  in  the  verandah  or  in  outside  huts,  and  provide  their 
own  food  out  of  their  small  wages ;  so,  keeping  several  of 
them  is  a  very  different  matter  from  keeping  many 
English  servants.  Moreover,  an  Englishman,  still  more 
an  Englishwoman,  labouring  in  such  a  climate  as  that  of 
India,  must  as  a  matter  of  simple  safety  have  many  things 
which  in  England  would  be  entirely  needless.  To  walk 
any  distance  under  the  heat  of  the  Indian  sun  would  for 
the  ordinary  European  often  mean  death.  To  '  rough  it,' 
to  brave  the  climate,  to  be  reckless  of  hardships,  would  in 
the  majority  of  instances  be  tantamount  to  suicide.  Yet, 
on  the  other  hand,  it  may  well  be  that  under  the  guise  of 
necessity  some  things  not  necessary  have  here  and  there 
crept  in.  A  story  has  been  told  of  an  officer,  himself 
a  hearty  supporter  of  Missions,  who  received  a  very 
unfavourable  impression  of  one  particular  Missionary  from 
observing  the  large  amount  of  comfortable  furniture  which 
arrived  at  the  said  Missionary's  bungalow,  for  the  latter's 
use.    The  officer  felt  at  once,  as  he  said,  that  the  Missionary 

*  was  not  made  of  the  right  stuff.'  He  may  have  judged 
hastily,  and  he  may  have  been  mistaken.  It  is  by  no 
means   impossible   that   the   Missionary  may  have   been 

*  of  the  right  stuff,'  despite  his  superabundance  of  home- 
comforts.  Nevertheless,  such  judgments  will  be  passed, 
and  it  is  well  if  Missionaries  can  live  a  life  that  shall 
render  them  uncalled  for. 

The  more  closely  modern  Missionaries  can  approximate 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  211 

to  Early  Church  Missionaries,  the  better.  One  can  hardly 
picture  S.  Paul  as  settling  down  in  a  very  luxurious 
bungalow,  with  a  very  huge  amount  of  luggage ;  and 
though  the  conditions  of  life  are  greatly  changed,  and 
allowance  has  to  be  made  for  the  change,  yet  the  principle 
and  spirit  of  Missionary  work  remain  the  same.  Things 
harmless  may  become  harmful,  if  they  prove  an  actual 
hindrance  to  success  in  the  work,  if  they  cause  an  actual 
lessening  of  influence.  The  question  should  be, — not, 
How  much  may  I  allow  myself? — but,  How  little  can  I  do 
with  ?  This  was  the  question  asked  by  Miss  Tucker,  and 
she  set  herself  bravely,  as  the  years  went  on,  to  test  and 
to  prove  how  much  or  how  little  was  truly  needed. 

On  first  arriving  she  had  of  course  to  do  simply  as  she 
was  told, — not  always  even  that,  without  protest.  When 
the  first  Sunday  came,  she  was  informed  that  they  would 
all  drive  to  church.  Miss  Tucker  objected.  She  did  not 
like  horses  to  be  made  to  work  on  Sunday.  She  was  told 
that  it  was  a  necessity,  but  she  was  not  convinced.  She 
would  put  her  large  thick  shawl  over  her  head,  and  walk. 
Nothing  could  hurt  her  through  that  shawl !  Others  had 
to  yield  to  her  will ;  not  without  fears  of  consequences  ; 
and  Miss  Tucker  trudged  off  alone,  with  the  thick  shawl 
well  over  her  head — heroically  half-suffocated.  When 
they  all  came  out  of  church,  she  would  not  wait  to  be 
driven,  but  again  severely  marched  off  alone.  However, 
the  result  of  this  was  so  bad  a  headache — though  in 
general  she  never  suffered  at  all  from  headache — that  she 
was  once  and  for  all  convinced.  Evidently  she  could 
not  do  in  India  precisely  as  in  England  ;  and  from  that 
time  she  consented,  when  it  was  necessary,  to  be  driven  to 
church  like  the  rest.  Of  course  this  question  of  walking 
or  driving  depends  largely  on  the  time  of  year,  as  well 
as  upon  the  hour  at  which  the  Service  is  held.  As  will 
be  seen  later,  Miss  Tucker  never  lost  her  habits  of  good 


212  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

walking  until  quite  late  in  life  ;  and  when  the  hour  of 
Service  or  the  time  of  year  rendered  walking  safe,  she 
always  preferred  it  to  being  driven. 

Some  friends  who  knew  her  best  in  India  have  been 
requested  to  jot  down  their  recollections,  and  have  most 
kindly  responded.  Certain  'side-lights'  upon  what  she 
was  will  be  best  thrown  by  quotations  from  two  of  these 
papers  as  to  the  beginning  of  her  Indian  career. 

Miss  Wauton  writes  : — 

*  I  have  been  asked  to  put  down  a  few  reminiscences  of  A.  L.  O.  E. 
in  her  Missionary  life  in  India.  But  how  shall  I  do  it .''  It  seems 
like  being  asked  to  help  in  painting  a  rainbow.  We  can  hardly  com- 
pare her  to  anything  else  ;  so  varied,  so  harmonious,  so  lovely  were 
the  rays  of  light  which  she  reflected.  Spirit  and  mind  were  as  a 
clear  prism,  through  which  the  light  of  Heaven  fell,  irradiating  the 
atmosphere  in  which  she  lived,  and  which  shone  out  all  the  more 
brightly  when  seen  against  the  dark  clouds  of  heathendom. 

'The  first  mention  of  her  intention  to  come  out  to  India  reached  us 
in  May  1875.  Well  do  I  remember  the  evening  when  Mr.  Clark, 
coming  to  our  Bungalow,  with  a  letter  in  his  hand,  said,  '  Who  do 
you  think  is  coming  to  join  you  here  as  a  Missionary  ? — A.  L.  O.  E.  ! ' 
The  title  instantly  brought  to  mind  books  such  as  The  Young 
Pilgrim,  The  Shepherd  of  Bethlehem,  which  had  delighted  us  in  our 
childhood's  days.  And  now  we  were  to  welcome  the  well-known  and 
gifted  authoress  into  our  house  !  This  was  a  privilege ;  and 
earnestly  did  we  look  forward  to  the  pleasure  of  receiving  her ; 
though  at  the  same  time  we  were  perhaps  conscious  of  a  slight  shadow 
of  doubt  crossing  our  minds,  as  to  how  far  one  of  Miss  Tucker's  age 
would  be  able  to  accommodate  herself  to  the  new  surroundings,  and 
bear  the  trials  incident  to  life  and  work  in  a  tropical  climate. 

'  If  such  doubts  did  occur  to  us,  they  were  soon  dispelled  by  a 
closer  acquaintance  with  the  object  of  them.  The  letters  received 
during  the  following  months  by  her  future  fellow-Missionaries  showed 
with  what  whole-heartedness  she  was  coming  forth,  prepared  from 
thenceforth  to  make  her  home  in  the  land  of  her  adoption,  and  to 
devote  all  she  was  and  all  she  had  to  the  grand  work  of  winning  the 
people  of  India  to  Christ.  .  .  . 

'  Miss  Tucker  reached  Amritsar  on  the  ist  Nov.  1875.     The  warm 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  213 

kiss  with  which  she  greeted  her  sister-Missionaries  showed  the 
affectionate  nature  ;  and  it  was  not  long  before  we  felt  that  we  had 
in  her,  not  only  a  fellow-worker,  but  a  loving  and  true  friend.  At 
her  own  request  the  formal  "  Miss  "  was  soon  dropped,  and  she  was 
always  addressed  as  "  Auntie."  The  family  of  adopted  nephews  and 
nieces,  beginning  with  three  or  four,  gradually  widened,  till  it  finally 
embraced  more  than  twenty  members.  Nor  was  this  relationship  a 
mere  formality.  It  represented  on  her  part  a  very  special  share  in 
the  sympathetic  interest  extended  to  all  fellow-Missionaries,  and  on 
their  side  a  reverential  love  and  esteem,  which  in  many  cases  could 
not  have  been  deeper,  had  the  tie  been  one  of  natural  kinship. 

'  She  soon  became  known  amongst  the  members  of  the  Indian 
Church  as  the  "  Buzurg,"  or  "  Honourable"  Miss  Sahib  ;  and  the  title 
of  "  Firishta"  or  "  angel "  was  not  unseldom  heard  in  connection  with 
her  name.  And  indeed  they  might  well  call  her  so.  Every  time  she 
spent  even  a  few  hours  under  our  roof  we  felt  that  we  had  enter- 
tained an  angel,  though  not  unawares,  so  bright  were  the  memories 
she  left  behind  in  loving  words  and  deeds.  ... 

'  She  was  so  considerate  for  servants,  that  she  would,  during  the 
first  hot  weather,  often  stop  her  pankah-walas  at  two  or  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  for  fear  of  tiring  them.  Her  face  and  hands  covered 
with  mosquito-bites  showed  what  she  endured  in  practising  this  self- 
denial.  It  took  a  long  time  to  convince  her  that  there  was  no  hard- 
ship in  employing  these  men  in  night-work,  seeing  they  had  plenty 
of  time  to  rest  during  the  day. 

'A.  L.  O.  E.  lost  no  time  in  beginning  to  use  her  pen  in  the  service 
of  India.  I  think  it  was  the  very  day  after  her  arrival  that  she  came 
to  us  with  the  MS.  in  her  hand  of  a  little  book  she  had  written  on 
her  way  up-country.  It  was  called  The  Church  built  out  of  One 
Brick;  its  object  being  to  stir  up  the  Christians  of  this  land  to  give 
more  liberally,  and  to  work  more  heartily,  for  their  own  Churches. 
We  were  amazed,  on  hearing  the  little  story  read,  at  the  wonderful 
knowledge  which  Miss  Tucker  had  even  then  gained,  or  rather, 
which  she  seemed  to  have  intuitively,  of  the  people  amongst  whom 
she  had  come  to  live.  She  said,  "  I  want  to  Orientalise  my  mind  "  ; 
but  she  seemed  to  have  been  born  with  an  Oriental  mind.  Parable, 
allegory,  and  metaphor  were  the  very  language  in  which  she  thought; 
and  her  thoughts  always  seemed  naturally  to  clothe  themselves  in 
those  figures  of  speech  in  which  the  children  of  the  East  are  wont 
to  express  themselves. 

'  She  always  wrote  her  books  in  English,  as  there  was  never  any 
difficulty  in  getting  them  translated  into  the  vernaculars.     Many 


214  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

thought  that,  on  this  account,  she  would  not  care  to  study  the  lan- 
guage ;  but  she  had  no  idea  of  reaching  the  people  only  through  her 
pen.  She  was  determined,  as  far  as  it  was  possible,  to  use  her  own 
lips  in  telling  out  the  message  of  salvation  she  had  come  to  bring. 

'  Accordingly,  she  was  soon  hard  at  work  with  primer,  grammar, 
and  dictionary.  At  the  end  of  a  year  she  passed  the  Hindustani 
Language  Examination,  and  then  began  Panjabi.  She  learnt  to 
express  herself  intelligibly  in  both  these  tongues,  though  the 
acquisition  of  them  cost  her  many  an  hour  of  hard  labour. 

*  How  she  did  toil  over  them  !  I  remember,  when  sharing  a  room 
with  her  once,  waking  about  four  o'clock  on  a  cold  winter's  morning, 
to  see  her,  already  dressed,  with  a  book  before  her,  in  which  she  had 
herself  written  in  very  large  printed  characters,  that  she  might  the 
more  easily  read  them,  a  long  list  of  Hindustani  and  Panjabi  words, 
which  she  was  busily  learning  off  by  heart.  By  this  incessant  industry 
she  acquired  a  large  vocabulary,  and  was  also  soon  able  to  read 
intelligently  many  vernacular  books,  which  gave  her  an  insight  into 
the  religious  life  of  the  people.' 

The  Rev.  Robert  Clark  writes  : — 

'  I  remember  well  her  arrival,,  when  she  was  received  by  Mrs. 
Elmslie  and  Miss  Wauton  in  the  Mission  House.  .  .  .  We  felt  that  a 
spiritual  as  well  as  an  intellectual  power  had  come  amongst  us.  .  .  . 
Like  the  great  Missionary  Swartz,  she  never  went  home  on  furlough ; 
and  she  never  took  more  than  a  month's  ^  holiday  in  the  year,  but 
remained  at  her  post,  hot  weather  and  cold  weather,  sometimes 
eleven  months,  sometimes  twelve  months  in  the  year,  during  her 
whole  service.  .  .  . 

'  Her  first  endeavour  on  her  arrival  in  India,  as  she  said,  was  to 
seek  to  "  Orientalise  her  mind."  She  noticed  everything,  watched 
everything  around  her,  sought  intercourse  with  the  people,  and  tried 
to  think  with  their  thoughts  and  feel  with  their  feelings,  and  to  realise 
their  position  and  circumstances,  in  order  that  she  might  bring  God's 
Word  to  bear  on  them  as  they  were.  It  was  in  this  way  only  that 
she  could  hope  to  do  them  good.  .  .  .' 

During  the  greater  part  of  1876  Miss  Tucker  remained 
at  Amritsar,  cementing  her  friendship  with  the  ladies  there, 
learning  the  Hindustani  and  Panjabi  languages,  studying 

1  Sometimes  she  would  take  a  week  or  ten  days  additional  at  some  other  season 
in  the  year. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  215 

the  ways  of  the  people,  and  writing  Httle  books  for 
translation  into  the  Native  tongues.  At  her  age  it  was  by 
no  means  so  easy  to  master  a  new  language  as  for  a 
younger  person  ; — indeed,  hard  as  she  toiled,  she  never  did 
absolutely  master  any  Indian  language  colloquially,  though 
for  a  time  she  became  thorough  mistress  of  the  Hindustani 
grammar  and  construction.  In  later  years  much  that  she 
had  conquered,  with  such  hard  and  persevering  toil,  slipped 
from  her  again. 

Also,  it  was  less  easy  for  her,  than  for  a  younger  person, 
to  fall  in  with  modes  of  work,  so  entirely  unlike  aught  to 
which  she  had  been  accustomed.  Her  very  warm-hearted- 
ness and  impetuosity  were  now  and  then  somewhat  of  a 
hindrance, — as  when,  on  her  first  arrival,  going  into  a 
Zenana,  she  pressed  forward  and  eagerly  shook  hands  with 
a  bibi, — an  Indian  lady, — forgetting  the  difference  of 
Indian  customs  and  English  ones.  Had  it  been  a 
Christian  bibi,  this  would  not  have  mattered.  As  it  was, 
the  mistake  was  so  serious,  that  it  might  have  resulted,  and 
very  nearly  did  result,  in  the  closing  of  that  particular 
Zenana  to  all  further  efforts. 

The  letters  home  from  this  time  are  so  full  and  so 
abundant,  that  the  only  difficulty  lies  in  selection.  By  far 
the  larger  number  are  of  course  to  her  much-loved  sister, 
Mrs.  Hamilton.  For  the  saving  of  space,  it  may  be 
understood  in  the  future  that  letters  not  especially  stated 
to  have  been  written  to  any  one  else,  were  written  to 
her. 

^Jan.  8,  1876. — My  expenses  have  been  less  than  I  expected.  I 
think  that  Margaret  must  be  a  very  good  manager.  .  .  I  can  now  form 
a  rough  idea  of  my  expenses,  and  I  think  my  sweet  Laura  will  like  to 
see  a  rude  estimate.^  As  rupees  and  annas  may  puzzle  you,  I  write 
in  English  fashion — 

1  Many  Missionaries  live  upon  less  than  ;^i55.     See  next  page. 


2l6 


THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 


Board  and  Servants  (there  will  be  pankahs  to  pay  for), 


Carriage 

per  a 

lUlUlIl, 

15 

Travelling 

5? 

25 

Munshi,  say 

•>■) 

10 

Postage,  say 

)) 

5 

Dress,  etc.,  etc.  . 

3> 

20 

^155 

'As  I  allow  myself  ;!^27o  in  India,  you  see  that  I  have  a  nice 
balance  to  spend ;  so  you  may  be  quite  easy,  and  I  quite  thankful, 
regarding  finances.  One  ought  to  thank  God  for  independent  means ; 
and  I  am  very  grateful  to  my  honoured  father  also.' 


FROM   MRS.   ELMSLIE  TO  MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'Jan.  13. 

'  I  am  sorry  to  have  been  unable  to  write  to  you  sooner,  as  I 
should  have  wished  to  tell  you  how  much  we  love  your  dear  sister, 
and  how  truly  she  has  already  become  an  honoured  and  trusted 
member  of  our  Mission  circle.  You  know  her  gentle,  loving,  winning 
ways  too  well  to  doubt  our  soon  learning  to  love  and  cherish  her  ; 
but  I  dare  say  you  also  know  her  unselfish  character  so  well,  that 
you  will  often  feel  anxious  lest  she  should  suffer  on  that  account.  She 
had  not  been  one  hour  with  us  before  I  found  out  that  it  is  her 
delight  to  be  giving  to  others  the  comforts  and  honours  which  are  due 
to  herself;  and  it  shall  be  my  endeavour  that  she  shall  not  lose  one 
iota  of  anything  that  should  help  her,  or  of  anything  that  is  truly 
good  for  her.     Being  the  housekeeper  here,  I  can  manage  this.  .  .  . 

'  Her  understanding  of  the  language  and  character  of  the  people  is 
quite  wonderful.  I  hardly  think  any  one  ever  read  character  so 
clearly  and  truly  as  she  does, — or  so  charitably.  She  sees  good  in 
all.  And  when  she  must  acknowledge  some  blemishes,  she  finds 
some  kind  excuse  for  them.  "  Thinketh  no  evil "  seems  written 
on  her  brow.  I  believe  she  will  do  much  for  India,  if  spared  ;  she 
sees  where  teaching  is  needed,  and  her  ready  mind  so  cleverly  weaves 
the  lessons  into  sweet  stories  which,  when  read  by  the  people,  will 
do  wonders  in  opening  their  minds.  I  hope  she  will  be  persuaded  to 
go  to  the  hills  in  summer,  for  this  work,  which  is  so  peculiarly  her 
own,  can  be  carried  on  there  as  well  as  here,  and  at  one-thousandth 
part  of  the  expense  to  physical  strength.' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  217 

C.    M.   T.   TO   MISS    'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

'Feb.  I,  1876. 
'  I  feel  as  if  one  of  my  chief  works  here  must  be  to  try  and  keep 
up  the  spirits  of  my  poor,  anxious,  overworked  companions.  I  cannot 
possibly  take  much  work  off  their  hands  ;  but  my  loving,  clinging 
Margaret  seems  to  feel  it  such  a  comfort  to  have  an  elderly  friend  to 
lean  on.' 

Towards  the  end  of  February  Miss  Tucker  went,  with 
Mrs.  Elmslie  and  two  Bible-women,  on  her  first  itinerating 
expedition, — not,  as  she  herself  said,  to  use  her  lips,  but  to 
use  her  eyes.     Writing  while  away,  she  says  : — 

^Behold  us  here,  my  Queen  Lily  ^  and  I,  encamped  in  the  midst  of 
a  Sikh  village,  and  living  in  a  tent,  without  lock  or  key,  with  as  little 
sensation  of  danger  as  I  had  at  Woodlands  or  Firlands.  .  .  . 

'  It  was  indeed  romantic  to  travel  along  that  wild  path  by  star- 
light. .  .  .  Do  you  remember  the  well-known  engraving  of  Una  with 
her  lion  entering  a  witch's  cave  ?  Now,  as  I  jogged  along  in  my  duli,^ 
while  Margaret  rode  on  her  white  pony,  she  made  me  think  of  that 
picture  of  Una.  She  is  so  fair,  so  graceful,  so  pure-looking,  with  her 
chiselled  profile  and  her  sweet  expression  ;  I  could  not  make  out, 
however,  anything  that  would  do  for  the  lion. 

'  Dear  Leila's  most  useful  bag  is  now  fastened  up  in  our  tent.  .  . 
Poor  Sarah  Jones'  night-bag  is  on  my  bed  ;  please  ask  dear  Leila  to 
tell  her  so,  when  she  sees  her,  with  my  kind  remembrances. 

'  Oh,  a  Sikh  village  is  a  curious  place  ;  built  of  mud,  and  pretty 
thickly  populated,  it  reminds  me  of  an  ant-hill.  I  wonder  how  such 
houses  stand  the  rains.  The  people  are  not  very  dark,  and  they  seem 
to  be  very  friendly.  It  is  not  from  rudeness  that  they  crowd  about 
one,  and  examine  one's  dress. 

'  It  would  have  amused  you  to  have  seen  Margaret  and  me 
perambulating  the  village,  going  through  its  muddy  lanes  ;  sometimes 
so  narrow  that  one  could  have  touched  the  walls  on  either  hand, —  or 
nearly  so.  Do  not  suppose  that  we  walked  alone.  We  had  wished 
to  take  a  quiet  stroll  together,  but  this  was  out  of  the  question.  We 
carried  a  train  with  us  ;  and  when  we  had  entered  a  tiny  court, 
inhabited  by  four  families,  when  I  raised  my  eyes  I  saw  a  set  of 
spectators  perched  on  the  wall  above,  like  so  many  sparrows,  gazing 
down  on  the  English  ladies.     One  had  not  in  the  least  the  feeling  of 

1  A  pet  name  for  Mrs.  Elmslie. 

2  Often  spelt  by  English  writers  doli,  dooli,  or  dhooli.     Pronounced,  dooly. 


2i8  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

being  amongst  enemies, — only  once  or  twice  I  saw  a  man  look  sternly 
at  us.  I  concluded  that  these  men  were  Muhammadans,  of  whom 
there  are,  I  believe,  a  few  in  this  village.  The  Sikhs  seem  to  be  a 
good-humoured,  friendly  set,  who  have  not  the  slightest  objection  to 
our  speaking  as  much  about  our  religion  as  we  like.  Some  of  the 
people  here — like  the  Pandit  ^ — know  Urdu,  but  by  no  means  all  of 
them. 

'  But,  Laura,  you  who  have  an  eye  for  the  picturesque,  and  a  soul 
for  the  romantic,  you  should  have  had  a  glimpse  of  us  yesterday  in 
the  Pandit's  house,  at  evening  prayer  !  The  long  mud-built  room 
looked  strange  enough  by  day ;  but  at  night  seen  by  the  gleam  of 
one  lamp,  it  looked — like  the  entrance  to  a  cave  or  a  catacomb. 

'  There  sat  the  Pandit  on  his  large  mat,  and  at  a  httle  distance 
his  wife  on  a  very  small  one,  the  dull  lamp  throwing  their  black 
shadows  on  the  mud  wall  behind  them.  A  black  buffalo  calf  was  at 
one  end  of  the  apartment ;  but  the  place  was  too  dark  for  us  to  see 
much  of  it.  The  Pandit  bending  over  his  book  was  a  study  for  an 
artist,  with  his  white  turban  and  his  extraordinary  spectacles.  I 
was  asked  to  choose  the  chapter  ;  I  chose  Romans  xii.  The  Pandit 
had  such  difficulty  in  finding  the  place,  that  it  seemed  evident  that 
he  is  not  familiar  with  the  Epistles.  But  he  must  have  been  pleased 
with  the  chapter,  when  he  did  find  it ;  for  he  not  only  read  it,  but 
the  one  which  followed  it.     Then  came  a  long  Sanscrit  prayer.' 

''March  7. — One  of  the  things  most  admired  has  been  a  prism, 
which  I  have  as  a  letter-weight.  The  splendid  colours  which  through 
it  an  Indian  sun  casts  on  the  walls  excite  much  admiration  and 
pleasure.  My  little  Ayah  to-day  asked  me  what  my  Zouave  had 
cost.  I  should  hardly  call  her  my  Ayah,  as,  luckily  for  me,  I  have 
only  one-third  part  of  the  little  woman.  To  have  a  whole  Ayah 
would  be  too  much  of  a  good  thing. 

'  I  took  your  Illustrated  yesterday  to  show  to  the  Mother-in-law  of 
the  German  Missionary.  ...  I  tried  as  I  walked  to  the  house  to  get 
up  a  little  German  ;  but,  O  Laura,  the  Urdu  had  driven  it  almost  all 
out  of  my  head.  If  I  wished  to  call  up  a  German  word,  up  would 
come  an  Urdu  one  !  I  did  indeed  remember  "  wunderbar,"  and 
"  shrecklich,"  so  that  helped  me  with  the  Illustrated,  but  they  would 
not  have  been  very  useful  in  a  lengthy  conversation. 

'  If  I  had  had  time  to  write  yesterday,  I  might  have  given  you  such 
an  interesting  account  of  the  Panjabi  Munshi,  which  I  heard  from 
Mr.  H.    This  Munshi,  I  forget  his  name,  is  the  son  of  one  of  the 

1  A  learned  Hindu.     Pronounced,  pundit. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  219 

four  priests  of  the  Golden  Temple,  and  a  man  of  character,  some  talent, 
and  influence.     Mr.  H.,  who  is  translating  some  of  the  Bible  into 

Panjabi,  wanted 's  assistance.    The  Munshi  courteously  declined, 

as  he  feared  that  the  Bible  would  be  contrary  to  the  "Granth,"  the  Sikh 
Scriptures.  These  Scriptures,  so  far  as  they  go,  Mr.  H.  says,  are  not 
bad  at  all ;  and  true  Sikhs  detest  idolatry.  "  Well,"  says  Mr.  H., 
"both  you  and  I  worship  the  Great  God.  We  will  make  a  bargain. 
If  in  the  Bible  we  meet  with  anything  against  the  Great  God,  we  will 
close  the  book  at  once."  The  Munshi  instantly  closed  with  the  offer  ; 
and  the  result  is  that  at  last  he  has  told  Mr.  H.  that  there  is  no  book 
in  the  world  like  the  Bible.  When  the  Munshi's  sister  lay  dying,  he 
nursed  her  night  and  day,  and  used  to  carry  to  her  what  he  had  been 
reading  with  Mr.  H. 

'The  Munshi's  father,  the  priest,  seemed  to  have  had  rather  a 
natural  fear  of  his  son's  imbibing  what  he  would  consider  wrong 
doctrine.  He  therefore,  with  two  friends,  made  the  Munshi  read 
over  to  them  what  he  had  been  busy  about  with  the  Christian  Sahib. 
After  a  while  the  priest  observed,  "  At  first  I  listened  as  a  critic  ; 
now  I  listen  with  interest." 

'  What  an  honest,  conscientious  man  the  Munshi  is,  was  shown  by 
his  conduct  to  a  rich  tradesman  in  the  city.  This  rich  man  paid  the 
Munshi  to  come  and  read  the  "Granth"  to  him, — I   suppose  for 

amusement,  as  he  himself  is  a  Hindu  and  idolater.     When came 

to  read,  he  saw  an  idol  in  front  of  the  Hindu,  and  the  Sikh  positively 
refused  to  open  the  "  Granth  " — his  sacred  book — in  presence  of  the 
idol.     "Why,"  says  the  Hindu,  "you  worship   the  picture  of  your 

saint,  so  you  need  not  object  to  my  image."   But positively  denied 

that  he  worshipped  the  picture.  "Bring  one  here,"  he  said;  "and 
in  the  presence  of  witnesses,  I  will  tear  it  in  pieces.  Will  you  do  the 
same  with  your  idol  ?  " ' 

The  following  letter  to  one  of  her  aunts,  dated  May  8, 
1 876,  refers  to  the  above  expedition  : — 

*  I  see  you  have  an  impression  that  we  Missionary  ladies  dress 
oddly,  behave  strangely,  and  undergo  all  kinds  of  hardships.     You 

think  that  I  slept  on  the  ground  when  I  went  to  O .     Not  a  bit 

of  it !  Margaret  and  I  took  beds  with  us,  and  a  table  and  seats  and 
cooking  utensils,  and  a  stock  of  provisions— and  Common  sense  !  !  ! 
We  were  never  the  worse  for  our  adventure.  The  Missionaries 
scold  each  other  more  for  imprudence  about  health  than  any  other 
thing,  and  I  am  the  scold  of  the  party,  so  that  as  I  preach  I  must 
practise. 


220  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

^2ndly.  As  regards  dress,  I  consider  that  we  dress  rather  prettily 
than  otherwise.  Of  course  in  England  it  would  look  funny  to  see  a 
lady  of  my  age  all  in  white,  with  a  topi  and  pugri  and  white  parasol ; 
but  it  does  not  look  funny  in  India.  Why,  the  very  soldiers  look 
like  figures  in  plaster  of  Paris.  As  for  the  natives  thinking  us 
"  Chinese,"  there  is  no  fear  of  their  doing  that.  I  believe  that  we 
Missionaries  are  much  respected ;  we  are  treated  with  courtesy ; 
and  one  of  us  may  walk  alone  through  crowds  of  hundreds  of  natives, 
and  never  have  a  disrespectful  word.  .  .  . 

'  Then  you  so  kindly  take  a  little  anxiety  about  my  health  ;  but 
I  do  not  know  that  I  was  ever  better  in  my  life.  I  fancy  that  I  am 
even  a  trifle  fatter.  Thank  God,  I  have  not  had  a  touch  of  fever  or 
headache  yet ;  and  though  my  pankah  has  been  up  for  days,  I  have 
not  cared  to  have  it  worked.  Of  course  the  greatest  heat  is  to 
come  ;  .  .  •  but  heat,  except  of  course  exposure  to  the  sun,  does  not 
seem  to  injure  me  ;  and  I  am  more  afraid  of  December  cold  than  of 
July  heat.' 

In  April  she  went  to  Lahore  for  a  visit,  as  companion 
to  a  Missionary,  left  alone.  Writing  from  there,  she 
observes  :  '  Visits  to  Missionary  stations  are  a  part  of  my 
education  ;  and  one  which  Dr.  Murdoch  strongly  recom- 
mended for  me.  He  would  have  me  running  about  the 
country  ;  but  really  I  am  too  old  to  be  a  comet  like  my 
nephew.'^  And  again,  speaking  of  a  walk  through  the 
narrow  streets  of  Lahore :  '  Presently  we  met  a  cart 
drawn  by  buffaloes,  which  filled  up  the  greater  part  of  the 
width  of  the  road,  —  of  course  one  does  not  expect 
pavements  for  foot-passengers.  Miss  H.  was  a  bit 
frightened,  and  seemed  to  think  that  the  big  ugly  creatures 
would  leave  us  no  room  to  pass  ;  but  I  could  see  that 
there  was  plenty  of  room,  if  we  went  single  file.  And  as 
for  being  afraid  of  a  stolid  buffalo,  that  looks  as  if  it  never 
would  dream  of  goring  any  one,  even  if  its  horns  were  not 
so  set  on  that  it  could  not  do  such  a  thing,  there  would  be 
small  excuse  for  that.  Why,  Margaret  one  day,  when  she 
was  in  Cashmere,  saw  a  big  black  bear  only  a  few  yards 

1  Adopted  nephew,  the  Rev.  Rowland  Bateman. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  221 

from  her,  with  just  a  Httle  icy  stream  between,  and  she 
was  not  terrified.  One  bear  would  be  equal  to  a  hundred 
black  buffaloes.     I   am   rather  struck  by  the  amount  of 

dash   amongst    Missionaries  !      Miss is   perhaps    an 

exception,  but  then  hers  is  merely  school-work.  I  think 
that  Margaret  is  a  gallant  lady,  and  that  Emily  ^  would 
be  true  as  steel.  As  for  some  of  the  gentlemen,  I  feel  sure 
that  there  is  plenty  of  real  heroism  in  them.'  In  almost 
her  next  letter  she  says  of  one  of  these  Missionaries  :  '  I 
do  hope  that  your  cheque  may  make  my  nephew  take  a 
little  more  care  of  his  health.  He  is  so  careful  of  Mission 
money,  that  he  almost  provokes  us  by  travelling  in  ways 
likely  to  make  him  ill.  I  believe  that  he  has  seriously 
injured  himself  by  economising  in  his  own  comforts.  He 
ought  not  to  be  knocked  about,  for  he  is  very  fragile 
indeed.' 

'  April  20.  —  The  weather  is  gradually  getting  warmer.  The 
thermometer  in  my  verandah  to-day,  where  it  had  been  in  the  shade 
all  the  day,  was  about  107°,  that  is  more  than  twenty  degrees  hotter 
than  I  have  ever  seen  it  in  the  most  sultry  day  in  England.  But  do 
not  suppose  that  I  mind  the  heat,  or  that  it  has  hitherto  done  me  the 
slightest  harm.  Thank  God,  I  am  in  perfect  health,  not  in  the 
slightest  degree  feverish.  I  charmed  Margaret  at  dinner  to-day. 
"  You  are  better  in  the  hot  weather  than  the  cold,"  she  cried.  "  I 
never  knew  you  ask  for  a  second  help  in  the  cold  weather."  And 
the  two  poor  dear  girls  opposite  me  sat  with  plates  sadly  clean  ; 
neither  of  them  would  touch  a  bit  of  meat.  ...  Of  course  we  shall 
have  the  weather  a  good  deal  hotter  presently,  but  then  pankahs 
will  be  up.' 

'  May  8. — There  is  a  little  romance  going  on  here.  A  little  native 
maiden  was  betrothed  to  a  native  lad.  Before  the  marriage  came 
off,  the  destined  bridegroom  and  his  parents  became  Christians. 
The  girl's  parents  wanted  to  break  off  the  match,  and  unite  the  girl 
to  a  heathen.  But  her  heart  was  set  on  her  young  bridegroom. 
The  case  came  before  court, — Emily  thinks  about  a  year  ago.  It 
was  adjudged  that  the  maiden  was  too  young  to  fix  her  own  fate.    But 

1  Miss  Wauton. 


222  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

she  is  old  enough  now,  and  she  has  kept  true  to  her  lover.  The 
final  decision  must  be  made  in  twenty-one  days.  The  young  girl — she 
looks  such  a  child — wants,  I  hear,  to  become  a  Christian.  Emily  fain 
would  ascertain  whether  she  does  so  from  love  of  religion,  or  only 
from  love  for  her  boy.  I  hope  to  be  at  her  baptism,— and  her 
wedding  too,  if  all  be  well.' 

''May  29. — I  have  done  so  few  lessons  to-day,  I  had  better  set  to 
them  bravely.  I  have  written  out,  large  and  black,  so  that  I  may 
easily  read  in  dim  light,  more  than  1300  words,  to  go  over  regularly 
every  fortnight,  masculine  separated  from  feminine  nouns.  I  know 
others  that  I  have  not  written  down.  But,  Laura  dear,  all  these 
words — rather  a  tax  on  an  old  lady's  memory — take  one  on  but  a 
small  way  in  speaking  this  difficult  language.' 

Early  in  June  she  yielded  very  reluctantly  to  Mrs. 
Elmslie's  pressure,  and  consented  to  go  for  a  short  time  to 
Dalhousie  ;  and  the  letter  following  was  written  at  an  inn 
on  the  way : — 

'Dak  Bungalow, /z^;2^  13,  1876. 

'  I  have  been  giving  dear  Leila  an  account  of  the  first  part  of 
my  journey  ;  now  I  will  go  on  with  you.  I  slept  a  good  deal  in  the 
gari.     I  dreamed  that  I  was  talking  with  you  about  Margaret.  .  .  . 

'  Well,  I  reached  the  dak  bungalow  (kind  of  inn)  early  in  the  morning, 
took  early  breakfast,  and  started  in  my  duli  (kind  of  palanquin)  at  about 
6.15.  I  wanted  to  start  earlier,  knowing  that  I  had  a  nineteen  miles 
stage  before  me,  and  that  the  day  would  probably  be  hot.  I  had 
nine  men  to  carry  me  and  my  luggage.  They  made  little  of  it,  but 
went  at  the  rate  of  nearly  four  miles  an  hour,  including  brief  stoppages. 
Three  times  the  poor  fellows  asked  for  leave  to  stop  and  drink  water. 
This  of  course  I  granted.  Twice  I  was  asked  for  bakhshish  ;  but  I 
declined  giving  any  until  I  should  arrive,  and  then  if  they  carried  me 
nicely  I  promised  them  something. 

'  They  did  carry  me  very  nicely.  When  they  had  gone  about  ten 
miles,  and  might  be  supposed  to  have  grown  pretty  tired,  then  they 
began  to  be  lively,  laughing  and  chatting  together,  I  suppose  to 
beguile  the  way.  It  would  be  well  if  we  took  life's  journey  as 
patiently  and  cheerfully  as  these  poor  half-clad  mountaineers.  Note 
i7iserted.     Oh,  doubtless  it  was  a  relay  !  .  .  . 

'  The  thunder  has  been  grumbling.  Perhaps  I  may  take  a  little 
walk  before  I  start  on  my  long  night  expedition.  This  seems  to  be  a 
lovely  place,  but  of  course  I  shall  not  walk  in  the  heat  of  the  day.  .  .  . 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  iit, 

'  It  is  indeed  a  miracle  how  a  mere  handful  of  Englishmen  rule 
such  a  country  as  this.  Since  I  left  Amritsar  I  have  seen  but  one 
English  face,  and  that  was  the  face  of  some  one  lying  full  length  in 
a  duli  which  I  passed.  He  was  very  likely  ill.  Yet  one  feels  oneself 
under  a  very  strong  wing  of  the  law, — far  more  so  than  one  does  in 
England.  There  have  I  been  travelling  with  a  band  of  natives  to 
whom  threepence  is  a  good  present  .  .  .  riiy  language,  my  religion, 
are  strange,  and  yet  I  neither  receive  nor  fear  the  slightest  disrespect. 
Is  not  this  like  a  miracle  1 

'  Thunder  again  !  If  I  have  a  storm  to-night  in  the  mountains, 
how  sublime  it  will  look  ! ' 

But  though  she  enjoyed  her  time  in  the  mountains,  she 
was  eager  to  return  to  work  ;  and  even  from  Dalhousie 
her  letters  contain  chiefly  details  of  what  was  being  done, 
there  or  at  Amritsar,  in  her  absence.  On  the  i8th  of  July 
she  was  on  the  road  ;  and  again  she  wrote  from  an  inn  : — 

'  I  have  bidden  farewell  to  Dalhousie.  The  skies  were  weeping 
violently  when  I  started ;  so  was  not  I  !  .  .  .  Dalhousie  is  grandly 
beautiful ;  but  I  have  been  asking  myself  why  I  have  not  been  in 
raptures  with  its  beauties.  I  think  that  two  things  are  wanting  to 
its  perfection; — first,  the  soft  blue  haze  which  one  connects  with 
distant  mountains.  High  and  hard,  some  snow-crowned  peak  cuts 
the  sky.  You  are  told  that  it  is  a  hundred  miles  off.  You  don't 
believe  it !  It  is  as  clear  and  sharp  as  if  only  two.  Then  water  is  a 
very  great  want,  at  least  to  me.  Certainly,  there  is  the  Ravi,  one  of 
the  five  famous  rivers  of  the  Panjab  ;  but  at  Dalhousie  it  looks,  at 
least  in  June,  first  cousin  to  a  swamp.  One  wants  waterfalls.  One- 
hundredth  part — one-thousandth  part — of  Niagara,  glorious  Niagara, 
would  be  a  boon  at  Dalhousie.  .  .  . 

'It  is  a  curious  thing,  dear  Laura,  that  kind  of  instinct  which 
one  acquires  in  India  !  I  have  often. and  often  thought  on  the  subject. 
One  feels  as  if  one  belonged  to  such  a  lordly  race.  It  is  that  odd 
kind  of  impression  upon  one  that,  though  one  may  personally  be 
weak  a*s  water,  one  forms  a  part  of  a  mysterious  power.  There  is  a 
kind  of  instinctive  persuasion  that  neither  man  nor  beast  would  dare 
to  attack  one, — except  perhaps  a  vicious  horse.  One  travels  by 
night,  without  the  slightest  protection,  surrounded  by  half-clad, 
ignorant  semi-savages  ;  one  never  dreams  of  fearing  them.  One 
takes  one's  early  walk  in  a  lonely  place,  where  the  cheetah  or  snake 
may  lurk,  without  the  smallest  alarm.  They  would  not  surely  attack 
one  of  the  English  !  .  .  .' 


CHAPTER    III 

A.D.    1876 

CURIOUS   WAYS 

More  than  half  of  Charlotte  Tucker's  first  year  in  India 
was  now  over ;  and  still  no  thought  of  work  for  herself  in 
Batala  had  arisen.  She  knew  about  Batala,  and  was 
interested  in  the  place,  no  doubt,  as  in  all  other  outlying 
parts  where  Missionary  work  had  been  even  fitfully 
attempted.  But  Amritsar  was  thus  far  her  home  ;  and  there 
she  expected  to  remain.  She  continued  to  study  hard  and 
perseveringly,  in  preparation  for  fuller  work,  often  lament- 
ing her  own  slowness  in  learning  to  speak  ;  and  already  she 
was  making  herself  known  and  beloved  by  a  few  Indians, 
— either  Christian,  or  disposed  towards  Christianity. 

After  her  return  from  Dalhousie  she  wrote  in  joyous 
strains :  '  Here  I  am  at  dear  Amritsar  again,  which  I 
much  prefer  to  the  abode  amongst  the  clouds.'  There 
was  some  idea  that  she  might  have  to  go  all  the  way  back 
to  Dalhousie,  to  nurse  a  sick  Missionary  there ;  and  she 
was  perfectly  willing  to  do  so,  without  hesitation  on  the 
score  of  fatigue,  without  a  thought  of  the  long,  troublesome 
journey.  No  one  else  could  be  so  well  spared  at  that 
period  from  Amritsar  as  herself;  and  this  she  fully  realised. 
'  If  however  dear  Florrie  rallies  nicely,'  she  wrote,  '  I  have 
not  the  slightest  intention  of  going  to  cloudland  again. 
Pankah-land  suits  my  taste  better.'  Happily,  it  was  not 
necessary  for  her  to  go. 

224 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  225 

It  was  in  the  spring  or  summer  of  this  year  that  she 
began  to  name  her  various  new  friends  after  certain  jewels, 
according  to  her  estimate  of  their  respective  gifts  and 
characters.  She  possessed,  in  imagination,  a  jewelled 
bracelet,  representing  the  different  Missionary  gentlemen 
of  her  acquaintance, — Diamond,  Opal,  Amethyst,  etc.  A 
companion  bracelet  was  supposed  to  represent  the  Mis- 
sionary ladies, — consisting  of  Diamond,  Sardonix,  Onyx, 
etc.  Also  she  had  in  mind  'an  extraordinary  necklace. 
Oriental  pattern,  formed  of  Native  friends,' — those  Indian 
Christians,  whom  she  had  begun  to  know  and  to  love, 
many  of  whom  repaid  her  love,  and  did  not  disappoint 
her  trust  in  the  coming  years. 

A  little  later,  in  the  letter  describing  this  favourite  idea, 
she  adds :  '  Now  we  come  to  my  yellow  girdle,  studded 
with  gems.  This  is  composed  of  dear  ones  in  Old  Eng- 
land ;  my  own  Laura  being  the  Pearl  nearest  the  heart' 

A  more  prosaic  and  less  romantic  nature  can  perhaps 
hardly  understand,  much  less  sympathise  with,  the  delight 
afforded  to  her  curiously  symbol-loving  mind  by  this 
manner  of  regarding  those  whom  she  loved. 

In  July  a  letter  speaks  of '  seeing  more  of  the  lights  and 
shadows  of  Missionary  life '  than  before.  A  certain  young 
Muhammadan,  in  whom  they  were  greatly  interested, 
after  long  inquiry  and  hesitation,  at  length  made  up  his 
mind  to  come  boldly  forward,  and  to  be  baptized. 
Arrangements  were  made  for  his  Baptism  in  the  Church 
by  a  Native  clergyman  ;  the  matter  being  kept  as  quiet  as 
possible,  for  avoidance  of  the  opposition  which  was  sure 
to  arise.  Miss  Tucker  was  told  only  on  the  morning  of 
the  day  what  was  about  to  happen  ;  and  great  was  her 
delight,  as  well  as  her  fear  that  some  hindrance  might 
intervene. 

*  I  had  a  kind  of  intuitive  feeling,'  she  said,  '  that  some- 
thing might  come  to  prevent  the  Convert  from   openly 
P 


226  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

confessing  his  Lord.  I  knew  not  how  great  the  danger 
was.' 

One  hour  remained  before  the  time  fixed  for  the  Baptism, 
when  the  young  man — Babu  G.  he  may  be  called — 
came  in,  troubled  and  pale.  His  Mother  had  somehow 
divined  his  intention,  and  was  doing  her  utmost  to  prevent 
its  being  carried  out.  She  flung  a  brick  at  the  head  of 
one  Christian  Native,  who  had  had  a  hand  in  influencing 
the  young  Muhammadan  ;  she  raved  and  beat  her  breast ; 
she  cursed  and  tore  her  hair ;  she  declared  to  her  son  that 
if  he  became  a  Christian  she  would  die. 

Babu  G.  believed  all  this,  and  was  sorely  shaken. 
His  Mother  was  brought  to  the  Mission-house,  and  a 
vehement  scene  followed.  The  old  lady  sat  upon  the 
ground,  pouring  out  threats  and  curses,  beating  her  breast 
and  tearing  her  hair  anew, — only,  as  A.  L.  O.  E.  somewhat 
drily  observed  afterwards,  she  very  cleverly  avoided  hurting 
herself  by  her  blows,  and  none  of  her  hair  seemed  to  come 
out  with  all  the  apparent  '  tearing.'  But  the  young  man 
could  hardly  be  expected  to  see  this  as  a  stranger  would  ! 
He  wavered — hesitated — and  at  last  gave  way.  The 
Baptism  did  not  take  place ;  and  the  unhappy  young 
fellow,  convinced  of  the  truth  of  Christianity,  willing  in 
heart  to  be  a  servant  of  Christ,  had  not  courage  to  take 
his  own  decision,  but  remained  a  Muhammadan.  Bitter 
tears  were  shed  over  his  defection  by  gentle  Mrs. 
Elmslie  ;  the  first  that  Miss  Tucker  had  ever  seen  her 
shed. 

Such  stories  as  this  show  conclusively  that  the  work  which 
most  of  all  needs  to  be  done  in  India  is  to  transform  the 
Mothers, — to  educate  a  generation  of  Christian  Mothers. 
Their,  sons  then  will  be  Christian  too.  No  power  in  the 
world  surpasses  that  of  a  mother  over  her  children, 
whether  she  be  English  or  Hindu  or  Muhammadan. 

Charlotte  Tucker's  stern  side  seems  to  have  come  out 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  227 

in  this  stormy  interview  with  the  furious  old  lady.  '  Are 
you  not  afraid,'  she  demanded,  'that  God's  anger  is  on 
you  ?  You  have  been  your  son's  enemy.  When  affliction 
comes,  remember, — remember, — remember  ! ' 

Side  by  side,  however,  with  this  great  disappointment, 
were  other  more  hopeful  aspects  of  the  work.  Light 
and  shade  naturally  go  together.  A  few  days  later  she 
wrote : — 

'  The  mother  still  holds  her  unhappy  son  in  bonds,  and  forbids  him 
even  to  breathe  the  air  of  our  compound.  .  .  .  But  even  about  her 
we  need  not  despair.  I  was  reading  the  Gospel  to-day  with  the 
sweetest-looking  elderly  woman  that  I  have  seen  in  India.  All 
beauty  generally  departs  with  youth,  but  this  woman  is  really  attrac- 
tive still.  She  was  in  bitter  grief  at  the  baptism  of  her  eldest  son  ; 
when  the  next  was  baptized  she  blessed  him  ;  and  now  she  is  quite 
ready  for  baptism  herself  Such  a  sweet  expression  came  over  her 
face  yesterday  when  I  reminded  her  of  her  former  grief  and  her 
present  joy  ! ' 

On  August  8th  she  wrote  : — 

'The  old  Chaukidar^  made  us  laugh  the  other  evening  by  his  earnest, 
emphatic  warning  against  our  ladies  driving  out  at  night.  He  uses 
sometimes  almostfrantic  gesticulations.  He  told  us  that  there  is  danger 
of  meeting  at  night  a  dreadful  being,  in  appearance  somewhat  like  Mr. 
H. — a  tall,  fair,  blue-eyed  handsome  young  friend  of  ours  ! — whose 
object  is  to  cut  off" English  heads.  I  have  heard  of  a  similar  supersti- 
tion in  the  Hills  ;  but  there  I  fancy  that  Native  heads,  not  English, 
were  in  requisition.  You  can  imagine  from  this  what  a  funny  fellow 
the  old  Chaukidar  is  ;  but  we  look  on  him  as  true  as  steel.  One  day 
Mrs.  E.  found  him  most  good-naturedly  pulling  Iman's  pankah  for 
him.  She  was  so  much  pleased  that  she  gave  him  four  pomegranates. 
The  old  fellow  was  delighted,  and  at  once  gave  three  of  them  away, 
keeping  only  one  for  himself.  His  friend,  our  half-blind  Iman,  was 
one  to  benefit  by  his  generosity.' 

The  name  '  Iman,'  meaning  '  Faith,'  was  bestowed  by 
Miss  Tucker  upon  a  poor  pankah-wala,  whose  affectionate 

1  Watchman. 


228  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

disposition  made  a  strong  impression  upon  her.  The  poor 
fellow,  although  half-blind,  volunteered  one  day  to  walk  the 
whole  twenty-four  miles  to  Batala  and  back  in  three  days, 
to  carry  medicine  to  a  sick  woman  there, — the  wife  of 
the  young  Muhammadan,  Babu  G.,  above  mentioned. 
I  man  himself  was,  to  say  the  least,  disposed  to  be  a 
Christian.  These  little  side  facts  all  serve  to  show  the 
manner  of  influence  which  was  acting  gradually  in  all 
directions. 

In  another  letter,  belonging  to  August,  are  the  words : 
*  We  are  rather  on  the  tiptoe  of  expectation  about  our 
Bishop  that  is  to  be.     There  is  a  rumour  that  good  Mr. 

is  the  man ;    but  surely  it  is  impossible  that  such 

a  shy,  boy-like  Missionary  should  be  turned  into  a  Right 
Reverend  Father  ! '  The  appointment  when  made  proved 
to  be  that  of  Bishop  French,  well  known  in  Mutiny  days 
as  Mr.  French  of  Agra,  who  utterly  refused  to  allow  the 
Christian  Natives  to  be  banished  from  the  town,  as  was 
proposed  by  some  faint-hearted  people  there.  If  they 
went,  Mr.  French  said,  he  would  go  with  them  ;  and  he 
undertook  to  answer  for  their  faithfulness.  His  resolution 
prevailed  ;  and  the  little  band  of  Indian  Christians  were 
faithful  to  the  end  of  the  Siege. 

About  this  time  a  change  took  place,  which  A.  L.  O.  E. 
'  quite  approved,'  but  which  she  did  not  *  like.'  Mrs. 
Elmslie  left  the  Mission  Bungalow,  to  live  at  the  neigh- 
bouring Orphan  House,  taking  charge  of  the  orphans. 
A  superintendent  under  her  had  hitherto  done  the  work, 
but  had  proved  inefficient ;  and  the  new  plan  was  not 
only  better  in  itself,  but  promised  to  save  money — always 
a  prime  consideration  where  Missionary  funds  have  to  be 
considered. 

On  August  23rd  comes  a  letter  of  some  importance, 
respecting  the  kind  of  Missionaries  wanted  out  there. 
This  subject  will  recur  from  time  to  time  in  the  course  of 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  229 

the  correspondence ;  but  even  at  so  early  a  stage  as  this 
Miss  Tucker  seems  to  have  clearly  grasped  what  was  and 
what  was  not  required. 

'  It  is  very  kind  in  you  to  send  me  the  Illustrated.  After  it  has 
been  seen  here,  and  at  the  Orphanage,  and  by  the  dear,  good 
Germans,  off  it  starts  for  Dalhousie,  and  Florrie  probably  makes  it 
over  to  the  soldiers  after  she  has  done  with  it ;  so  you  see  that  you 
benefit  many  by  your  kindness. 

'  I  do  not  think  that  my  Margaret  at  all  enjoys  being  away  from  us 
in  the  schoolhouse,  though  she  keeps  bright  and  brave.  "The 
Mother  is  as  home-sick  as  can  be,"  was  the  description  given  by  one 
of  our  ladies,  this  house  being  the  "home"  meant.  Of  course,  we  go 
over  and  pet  her,  and  get  her  here  when  we  can.  I  hear  that 
her  room  was  leaking  so  last  night ;  that  must  be  looked  to  at 
once.  But  rooms  had  a  fair  excuse  for  leaking ;  we  had  such  a 
storm  !  .  .  . 

'  It  was  amusing  when  Emily,  Ada,  and  I  were  talking  over  our 
youth  the  other  day.  Dashing,  energetic  games  had  been  the  delight 
of  my  companions  ;  and  I  begin  to  imagine  that  cricket,  rounders, 
and  bolstering  form  no  bad  preparation  for  Missionary  life.  Dash 
and  energy  and  physical  strength  are  very  desirable.  We  want  ladies 
who  fear  nothing,  grumble  at  nothing,  and  are  ready  to  carry  the 
Holy  War  into  the  enemy's  camp.  One  of  Emily's  many  advantages 
is  that  she  is  a  fearless  rider.  I  am  rather  alarmed  at  hearing  that 
an  extremely  delicate  lady  is  coming  out  to  us.  We  want  hearty, 
strong  ladies,  not  sickly  ones.  The  Missionaries  are  too  short 
of  hands  to  be  able  to  undertake  much  sick-nursing.  If  I  were 
to  require  to  be  nursed  at  night— which,  thank  God,  I  have  not 
done — I  should  feel  inclined  to  run  off  somewhere  or  other,  so  as  not 
to  tax  the  strength  of  my  nieces.' 

Only  two  days  later  we  have  mention  of  the  first  Baptism 
in  Batala,  her  future  home  during  so  many  years.  She 
writes  :  '  A  deeply  interesting  event  took  place  yesterday 
at  Batala  ;  the  baptism  of  a  Brahmin,  a  man  in  a  very 
influential  position,  and  in  Government  employ.  Dear 
Sadiq  ^  and  I  believe  other  Christians  went  to  Batala  on 

1  Padri  Sadiq,  Native  Clergyman. 


230  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Wednesday  for  the  Baptism,  which  was  to  be  as  pubHc  as 
possible — in  a  tank.'  This  was  written  August  25  ;  and 
on  the  29th  she  gave  more  particulars. 

'  The  jackals  treated  us  to  their  varied  music  last  night ;  but  one 
does  not  mind  them  a  bit,  for  they  never  seem  to  attack  people,  or 
intrude  into  houses.  I  wish  that  they  would  teach  their  good  manners 
to  the  sparrows.  The  cheetah  also  is  a  modest  creature.  There  was  an 
account  very  lately  of  a  cheetah  going  into  a  verandah  at  Dalhousie  ; 
nothing  between  it  and  the  interior  of  the  house  but  a  chick  blind  ; 
but  it  was  too  pohte  to  intrude.  It  would  be  rather  exciting  to  look 
at  a  cheetah  through  a  chick  blind  ;  you  can  see  through  it  quite  well, 
as  the  light  is  outside. 

'But,  O  Laura,  I  ought  not  to  waste  my  space  on  cheetahs  or 
jackals,  when  I  can  write  of  things  so  much  more  interesting.  I  had 
such  an  interesting  account  of  the  Baptism  of  B— n,  the  Brahmin 
at  Batala,  from  Mr.  Beutel,^  supplemented  by  one  from  Sadiq. 
They  were  both  present.  .  .  .  Mr.  Beutel  observed  that  he  (B — n) 
had  had  to  go  through  more  than  many  do  in  a  campaign.  Why, 
except  the  Catechist  and  his  wife,  he  is  the  only  Christian  that  we 
know  of  in  that  fierce,  bigoted  Batala.  As  the  Muhammadans  did  not 
know  of  the  time  fixed  for  the  baptism,  at  the  beginning  of  the  Service 
by  the  tank  not  many  people  gathered  ;  but  seeing  that  something 
was  going  on,  gradually  a  crowd  collected.  At  last  the  crowd  grew 
large — and  excited  also — and  the  police  authority  had  to  be  called  in 
for  protection. 

'Perhaps  the  worst  of  all  was  the  Christian's  reception  at  his 
home  ;  his  wife  came  with  her  three  little  ones  to  meet  him,  beat- 
ing her  breast,  etc.  Sadiq  had  intended  to  carry  B — n  back  to 
Amritsar  with  him,  to  let  the  first  fury  of  the  storm  blow  over  ;  but , 
poor  B — n  preferred  remaining  at  Batala,  because  if  he  left  his 
wife,  he  did  not  know  what  she  might  do  with  his  children.  So  there 
the  brave  fellow  remains.  We  ought  to  pray  earnestly  for  this  our 
brother.' 

In  a  letter  to  her  niece,  Mrs.  Boswell,  on  September  ist, 
Charlotte  Tucker  spoke  of  herself  as  'heart-sick  with 
anxiety '  about  the  convert,  regretting  much  that  he  had 
not  come  to  Amritsar. 

1  German  Missionary  at  Amritsar. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  231 

'  Would  that  he  could  have  carried  wife  and  children  off  with  him  ! 
but  I  suppose  that  this  was  impossible,  against  the  woman's  will. 
Dear  Sadiq  soon  went  again  to  Batala  ; — alas  !  he  was  not  suffered  to 
see  the  convert,  who  is  surrounded  by  enemies,  and  seems  to  be  quite 
in  their  power.  B — n's  wife,  after  starving  herself  for  three  days  from 
grief  at  his  baptism,  has  died,  it  is  said  from  an  attack  of  cholera. 

'  Our  fear  is  that  the  heathen  are  starving  B — n  and  his  three 
children  to  death  !  One  poor  lamb  is  but  a  few  months  old.  If  I 
were  a  man,  I  would  be  off  to  Batala.  My  friend  Mr.  H.  has  written 
a  strong  note  to  an  EngHsh  official  at  no  great  distance  from  Batala, 
— there  not  one  Englishman  resides, — and  I  feel  little  doubt  that  he 
will  bring  the  strong  arm  of  the  law  to  protect  B— n.  But  the  note 
will  not  reach  till  this  evening.  For  eight  days  B — n  will  have 
been  in  the  fiery  furnace.     How  long  can  he  hold  out  ? ' 

Reports,  happily  false,  of  the  retractation  of  the  convert 
came  to  distress  them  at  Amritsar ;  and  Mr.  Beutel, 
leaving  his  wife  and  mother  dangerously  ill,  went  over  to 
Batala  to  inquire  how  matters  stood.  He  found  B — n, 
though  much  tried  and  sorely  pressed,  still  standing 
firm. 

It  is  melancholy  to  read  of  Charlotte  Tucker's  eager 
delight  in  carrying  the  good  news  to  her  favourite 
Maulvi  Z., — of  whom  at  that  time  she  thought  so  well 
and  hopefully  as  an  established  Christian,  and  who  in 
later  years  was  to  grieve  her  most  bitterly  by  himself 
becoming  an  apostate. 

Letters  at  this  time  show  her  steadily  growing  interest 
in  Batala,  her  ever-increasing  desire  for  systematic  work 
there. 

'■Sept.  14,  1876. — I  have  been  delaying  writing  till  I  could  give  you 
news  from  Batala, — that  place  towards  which  Missionary  eyes 
longingly  turn,  as  those  of  the  Germans  did  towards  Strasburg. 
May  Batala  be  given  to  us,  as  Strasburg  was  to  them.' 

'  Sept.  20. — As  regards  my  little  Indian  tales,  I  have  sent  a  good 
many  to  Nelson,  who  has  accepted  them ;  and  consequently  I 
suppose  intends  to  publish  them.     It  is  very  likely  that  they  have 


232  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

been  appearing  in  the  Family  Treasury.  .  .  .  Sadiq  had  just  come 
from  Batala,  where  he  had  seen  B— n.  Dear  Sadiq  !  I  think  that 
he  must  have  gone  altogether  seven  or  eight  times  to  Batala.  He  is 
a  friend  worth  having.  B— n  expressed  his  willingness  to  bring  his 
little  girls  to  Amritsar  ;  but  his  baby  was  so  very,  very  ill,  that  he  feared 
she  could  not  be  moved.  ...  The  little  lamb  appeared  to  be  sinking 
fast.  My  surprise  is  how  she  has  been  kept  alive  so  long.  The  last 
account  was  that  the  baby  was  "  not  fit  to  be  picked  off  the  charpai "  ;  ^ 
she  seemed  dying.  Dear  little  martyred  innocent, — dying  because 
her  father  gave  himself  to  Christ !  B— n  intends  to  bring  his  two 
elder  children ;  but  of  course  nothing  can  be  done  while  baby  is 
dying.  ... 

'  O  Laura,  I  feel  as  if  these  two  deaths  in  Batala  marked  the  place 
as  our  own.     So  much  cannot  have  been  suffered  in  vain.' 


TO   MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

'Sept.  26,  1876. 

'  Those  rogues  of  sparrows  have  fairly  driven  me  out  of  my  room 
this  morning.  They  make  such  a  chatter.  I  intend  to  request  Mr. 
H.  benevolently  to  shoot  a  few  ;  just  to  show  the  rest  that  really  they 
must  not  expect  to  be  allowed  to  build,  and  gossip,  and  make  them- 
selves disagreeable  in  every  possible  way  in  the  room  of  a  Buzurg 
Miss  Sahiba.  .  .  . 

'  It  is  much  cooler.  These  two  last  nights  I  have  needed  no 
pankah,  and  was  able  to  bear  a  blanket.  I  have  resumed  wearing  a 
merino  vest  by  day,  and  it  is  very  comfortable.  The  darzi,^  who 
squats  in  the  verandah,  is  busy  on  a  magnificent  dressing-gown, 
which  I  have  ordered.  I  brought  out  flannel  from  England,  but  not 
a  flannel  dressing-gown,  so  I  have  bought  a  rich  shawl-pattern,  and 
the  flannel  will  line  it,  and  I  shall  look  like  a  Malik^  ^  and  feel — 
almost  as  comfortable  as  a  sparrow.  ...  It  seemed  to  be  a  question 
with  the  darzi  whether  the  white  flannel  was  to  be  inside  or  outside  ! 
The  matter  appeared  to  interest  some  of  the  servants.  One  lives  in 
such  a  public  way  in  India.  Whatever  one  gives  to  be  made  or 
mended  is  made  or  mended  in  the  verandah  ;  and  the  darzi,  as  he 
cuts  out,  clips,  and  sews,  talks — perhaps  with  the  pankah-wala, 
perhaps  a  stranger,  perhaps  the  munshi  (tutor)  whose  pupil  is  not 
quite  ready  to  take  her  lesson.  .  .  .  There  is  no  shutting  the  world 
out ;  and  the  Indian  world  is  such  a  curious  world. 

1  Native  bedstead.  -  Tailor.  3  Queen, 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  233 

'Then  people's  characters  are  so  public  ;  no  one  seems  to  think  it 
worth  while  to  wear  thick  cloaks  over  them.  Everybody  seems  to 
know  about  everybody  else.  The  very  public  papers  seem  personal. 
.  .  ,  O  yes,  India  is  a  very  curious  place, — people  curious,^ — ways 
curious, — insects  curious, — dress  curious,  etc.  The  very  Anglo- 
Saxon  character  appears  in  a  new  and  curious  aspect.  India  is  a 
place  to  develop  an  instinct  to  command,  and  to  carry  things  with  a 
high  hand.  Weakness  does  almost  as  much  harm  as  wickedness. 
But  1  feel  myself  too  old  to  learn  the  zabardast^  way  of  going  on.  I  am 
not  fitted  to  grasp  reins  of  government,  and  drive  a  team  of  twenty-two 
Indian  servants,  syces,  pankah-walas,  bearer,  khitmatgar,  ayah,  etc., 
see  that  the  horses  are  not  cheated  of  grain,  that  pankah-walas  pull, 
that  kahars  don't  take  French  leave,  etc.  etc.  I  hope  that  Florrie  '^ 
will  hold  the  reins,  if  she  and  I  go  off  together.' 

'  Oct.  5. — We  had  a  visit  from  our  good  Pastor  Sadiq  yesterday. 
I  was  the  one  to  receive  him.  You  know  that  I  am  not  strong 
in  the  language  yet.  I  knew  that  Sadiq  was  speaking  about  sick- 
ness, castor-oil,  and  quinine,  and  people  going  about  to  look  after 
the  sufferers  ;  but  I  could  not  get  at  his  full  meaning  ;  and  as  he  was 
clearly  on  business,  I  thought  it  better  to  call  in  C.  to  my  aid. 
It  was  well  that  I  did  !  Sadiq's  heart  was  full  of  Batala — our  Stras- 
burg— where  people  are  dying  of  fever,  faster  than  even  in  Amritsar. 
Sadiq  wanted  a  subscription  to  be  made  instanter  to  send  off  quinine 
and  castor-oil.  The  Christian  lawyer,  R.,  would  go  on  to-day  or 
to-morrow,  and  Sadiq  himself  would  follow  on  Monday.  Talk  of 
languid,  apathetic  Hindus  !  Sadiq,  when  he  takes  a  thing  into  his 
head,  goes  at  it  like  a  battering-ram.  .  .  . 

'  To-day  I  had  what  seemed  to  poor  me  a  long  tite-a-teie  with  the 

Pandit  from  O ,  that  village  which  you  will  remember  I  visited 

with  Margaret.  O  dear  !  it  was  a  bit  of  a  mental  effort.  He  is  a 
learned  man  !  I  longed  for  C.  to  come  to  my  rescue,  but  battled 
with  verbs  and  genders  as  well  as  I  could. 

'  I  was  determined  to  do  the  polite,  so  I  boldly  asked  the  Pandit  to 
stay  to  dinner.  I  could  do  so,  as,  oddly  enough,  I  am  now  the  senior 
Missionary  at  Amritsar,^  though  I  feel  such  a  child  in  the  language. 
Rather  to  my  surprise,  the  Pandit  accepted  my  invitation  at  once.  He 
would  not  eat  with  us  when  he  was  here  before,  nor  when  at  O , 

1  Carrying  things  with  a  high  hand. 

2  Miss  Swainson. 

3  Mrs.  Elmslie  and  Miss  Wauton  were  away  for  a  few  weeks  in  the  Hills  with 
Miss  Swainson. 


234  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

for  he  is  a  curious  half-and-half  sort  of  Christian/  leading  such  a 
lonely  life  amongst  heathen.  The  Pandit  shared  our  meal,  but  only 
took  vegetables  and  bread-and-butter. 

'  Do  you  not  laugh  at  the  notion  of  poor  Char,  sitting  at  the  head 
of  a  table,  and  entertaining  a  Pandit,  and  feeling  her  ignorance,  and 
plunging  about  in  a  bog  of  Urdu  ?  I  did  not,  however,  attempt  to  talk 
much  after  C.  came  in,  as  she  has  been  nearly  four  years  in  India, 
and  speaks  the  language  well.' 

When  the  next  letter  was  written,  on  October  14,  the 
Batala  plan  was  .under  discussion.  Padri  Sadiq  seems  to 
have  first  suggested  the  idea  that  Miss  Tucker  should  pro- 
ceed thither  with  Miss  Swainson,  and  open  a  Mission  in 
the  place.  Miss  Tucker  does  not  appear  to  have  at  first 
viewed  the  scheme  with  any  great  enthusiasm. 

'  Such  a  merry  breakfast  we  had  this  morning  !  Our  three  dear 
ladies,  Margaret,  Emily,  and  Florrie,  arrived  at  about  9  a.m.  after 
nine  hours  of  raft, — very  tiring,  for  it  involved  much  walking,  and  it 
was  raining  away, — and  twelve  of  dak-gari.  Margaret  looked  young 
and  lovely ;  Florrie  much  improved.  .  .  .  She  is  delighted  with  the 
Batala  scheme  ;  but  Margaret  tells  me  that  it  cannot  be  carried  out 
till  December  at  earliest,  and  I  have  my  doubts  about  its  being 
carried  out  at  all.  At  any  rate,  the  difficulties  will  not  have  come 
from  7ne.  I  am  quite  wilHng  to  go  ;  but  of  course  a  new  station 
would  involve  the  Committee  in  expenses,  and  it  is  not  easy  to  pro- 
cure a  suitable  house,  etc.,  so  it  is  likely  enough  that  Sadiq's  plan 
will  be  disapproved  of  in  high  quarters.  I  quietly  wait  to  see  what 
direction  is  taken  by  "  the  fiery,  cloudy  pillar."  .  .  . 

'  Last  night  I  had  to  chaperon  to  our  noisy,  bustling  station  after 
dark  a  young  Missionary,  who  looks  to  me  quite  unfledged.     There  I 

met  the  school-teacher.  Miss ,  with  her  young  sister,  yet  more 

unfledged,  bound  on  the  same  errand.  ...  I  think  that  the  stations 
at  Indian  cities  are  more  noisy  and  bustling  than  the  worst  London 
ones.  It  almost  shocks  my  sense  of  propriety,  young  girls  travelling 
at  night, — it  is  funny  even  to  an  old  lady,  hurrying  up  and  down  a 
bustling  platform  amongst  Natives.  I  think  that  I  managed  pretty 
well  for  my  charge,  for  I  got  her  into  a  carriage  with  a  lady  and 
children,  so  she  was  safe  enough  ;  she  was  not  to  cross  the  Sutlej  till 

1  This  was  an  early  stage.  Now  the  learned  Pandit,  K.  S.,  is  an  Ordained 
Clergyman. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  235 

daylight.     Poor  little  Miss  was  put  by  her  sister  into  an  empty 

carriage  ;  but  who  knows  whether  some  drunken,  low  European  may 
not  have  got  into  it  at  the  next  station  ?  And  the  poor,  simple  little 
thing  was  to  cross  the  Sutlej  at  midnight,  with  her  baggage  to  look 
after  !  !  !  We  would  hardly  do  such  things  in  England.  I  have  slept 
a  night  here,  with  not  a  soul  in  the  house  but  myself^  and  the  house 
seems  so  strangely  open  ;  but  I  was  not  a  bit  afraid.' 

'  Oct.  20,  1876. — When  this  reaches  you,  perhaps  you  will  be  feeling 
the  first  pinch  of  winter.  We  do  not  escape  it  here  in  our  bright, 
glowing  Panjab.  I  cherish  a  fond  hope  that  if  we  go  to  Batala,  we 
shall  find  it  warmer  than  Amritsar.  .  .  .  Emily,  Florrie,  and  Sadiq 
have  gone  off  to-day  on  a  house-hunting  expedition  to  Batala.  It 
is  considered  a  very  healthy  place  ;  except,  of  course,  at  present — an 
exceptional  season.  If  I  go,  I  do  not  expect  to  have  much  to  do 
at  first  except  learn  the  language.  I  leave  school-work  to  Florrie  ; 
she  is  well  up  to  it  ;  and  I  hear  that  Zenanas  are  likely  to  be  very 
slow  in  opening.  .  .  . 

'My  Munshi  .  .  .  asked  me  to  give  him  leave  of  absence  on  the 
next  day,  or  that  following  it,  as  it  would  be  the  Muhammadans'^r^a/ 
day.  He  could  not  tell  me  which  of  the  two  days  it  would  be,  because 
all  would  depend  on  the  moon.  If  the  moon  were  seen  on  the  night 
after  the  i8th,  then  the  19th  would  be  the  feast  day,  the  end  of  the 
long  Muhammadan  fast.  If  the  moon  were  not  seen,  the  poor  people 
must  wait  till  the  20th.  "Suppose,"  said  I,  "that  the  people  at 
Lahore  see  the  moon,  and  that  those  at  Amritsar  do  not,  will  the 
Lahore  folk  have  a  feast  and  you  a  fast.'*"  A.  answered  in  the 
affirmative.  .  .  . 

'  I  talked  with  A.  a  little  about  the  fasting.  He  told  me  with 
gusto  that  he  had  once  gone  to  the  house  of  a  Muhammadan  friend, 
who  happened  to  have  a  little  hole  in  his  door,  on  one  of  the  days 
of  the  fast.  A.,  the  old  rogue,  peeped  through  the  hole,  and 
detected  his  friend  in  the  act  of  eating.  A.  then  knocked  at  the 
door.  His  friend — it  made  me  think  of  Friar  Tuck  ! — popped  the 
food  into  a  box,  wiped  his  mouth,  and  was  ready  to  receive  his 
visitor.  "What  were  you  doing.?"  asked  A.  "Reading,"  was 
the  reply.  Then  A.  opened  the  box,  and  showed  the  discom- 
fited hypocrite  the  food,  and — according  to  his  own  account — gave 
the  man  a  lecture.  I  have  my  doubts  about  the  latter  part  of  the 
story — I  mean  the  lecture.' 

'  Oct.  26. — Our  poor  city  has  been  bearing  some  resemblance  to  a 
hospital.     Some  think  that  not  one  of  her  inhabitants — 120,000 — has 


236  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

altogether  escaped  the  fever,  and  many  have  died ;  but  I  am  thankful  to 
write  that  the  sickness  is  on  the  decrease.  ...  I  cannot,  however,  go 
to  dear  Louis,  for  the  Beutels,  who  have  been  very  ill,  are  going  to 
Ludhiana  ;  and  their  mother,  too  ill  to  be  moved,  must  have  some  one 
to  look  after  her  a  little  during  their  absence.  I  am  the  only  lady 
available,  being  well,  and  with  no  pressure  of  work.  I  am  almost 
astonished  at  having  been  so  exempted  from  suffering,  when 
thousands  and  thousands  have  been  so  ill.  I  have  not  spent  a  day 
in  bed  .  .  .  since  leaving  England.  It  is  a  cause  for  much  thank- 
fulness. Of  course  I  had  a  little  fever,  but  it  has  left  no  dregs.  The 
weather  is  so  nice,  that  one  hardly  understands  why  any  one  should  be 

ill 

'  The  Batala  plan  is  rather  hanging  fire  at  present.  Day  after  day 
passes,  and  no  reply  is  received  to  the  letter  asking  permission  for  us 
to  occupy  apartments  in  the  palace.  No  other  place  in  or  near 
Batala  seems  to  be  available.  Even  in  the  palace  considerable 
alterations  would  be  needed,  to  make  the  rooms  at  all  suitable  for 
English  ladies.' 

'  Nov.  1 6. — Sadiq  does  not  quite  approve  of  our  selection  of  a  house. 
He  would  have  liked  one  right  in  the  city ;  but  it  is  far  pleasanter  to 
us  to  be  a  little  out  of  it.  ...  I  asked  him  if  he  had  any  news  of  B — n. 
Sadiq  told  me  that  he  had  seen  him  at  Batala,  the  beginning  of  last 
week.  Our  brave  Brahmin  convert  had  been  very  ill,  and  had 
written — or  caused  to  be  written — a  paper  stating  that  he  wished  his 
body  to  be  buried  by  Christians,  his  children  brought  up  by  Chris- 
tians, and  his  property  taken  care  of  by  the  Mission.  I  am  thankful 
to  say  that  B — n  did  not  die  ;  but  as  Sadiq  said,  he  has  had 
affliction  upon  affliction.  ...  In  a  few  months  this  convert  has  lost 
wife,  babe,  and  only  brother.  Sadiq  said  that  B — n's  regret  about 
the  babe  was  that  it  had  not  been  baptized.  But  when  I  remarked 
that  I  thought  the  babe  had  been  a  kind  of  martyr,  like  the  little  ones 
killed  by  Herod,  Sadiq  looked  pleased.' 

''Dec.  I. — I  suppose  that  my  next  letter  will  be  addressed  to  you 
from  my  new  home  in  Batala.  My  nieces  are  very  anxious  to  make 
arrangements  for  my  comfort.  I  am  not  to  have  the  trouble  of  help- 
ing to  put  the  new  house  into  order.  Two  ladies  go  before  to  make 
everything  nice.  .  .  . 

'  I  went  to  dear  S.  Begum  to-day, — the  one  who  was  lately  baptized 
with  her  young  daughter, — to  speak  to  her  about  Holy  Communion. 
I  am  glad  that  I  shall  have  the  First  Sunday  in  Advent  in  Amritsar. 
It  will  seem  strange  to  reside  in  a  place  where  there  is  no  church  ! 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  lyj 

I  suppose  that  we  shall  go  over  to  the  Catcchist's  house,  and  have 
Urdu  service  there.  .  .  . 

'  It  was  very  interesting  to  hear  Mr.  Wade's  account  of  the  open- 
ing of  a  little  church  in  the  village  of  G.  The  peculiar  and  very 
interesting  feature  of  the  affair  is  that  in  this  Rajput  village  a  little 
flock  has  been  gathered  just  by  Native  agency.  And  the  way  for  the 
Native  evangelist,  the  excellent  C,  was  wondrously  prepared. 

'  In  old  Runjit's  time  a  kind  of  Native  prophet  declared  that  our 
Lord  was  greater  than  all  others.  This  Pandit  was  succeeded  by 
another,  who  declared  that  all  the  people  would  become  the  Lord's 
followers.  They  who  came  first  would  receive  honour  ;  they  who 
came  next,  a  mere  subsistence  ;  they  who  came  last  would  be  driven 
in  !  Then  a  third  teacher  arose — the  present  one.  He  said  that  a 
shepherd  pushes  one  sheep  after  another  into  the  fold,  and  when  all 
are  in  follows  himself ;  and  that  so  he  would  get  the  people  into  the 
Christian  fold,  and  then  follow  them. 

'  It  seems  to  us  a  most  extraordinary  way  of  evangelising  ;  but 
when  the  Rev.  C.  came  to  the  village,  he  found  that  these  strange 
teachers  had  really  ploughed  up  the  ground  to  receive  the  good  seed  ; 
and  the  third  teacher  has  come  himself  into  the  fold  with  four  of  his 
relatives.     His  wife  still  holds  out. 

'  The  opening  of  the  tiny  church  was  a  delightful  scene.  There 
are  only  14  or  15  baptized  Christians  ;  but  the  people,  men  and 
women,  flocked  in,  till  there  was  hardly  room  to  sit  on  the  ground. 
In  the  thoroughly  Oriental  church  there  are  no  seats.' 

^  Dec.  4,  1876. —I  have  this  morning  read  your  loving  expostulation 
to  Margaret  and  myself  regarding  Batala.  You  think  that  your 
strong  point  is  my  unfitness  for  an  out-station.  But,  sweet  one,  you 
forget  that  I  am  so  specially  fitted,  by  age,  for  the  post,  that  if  I  were 
to  draw  back,  the  whole  promising  plan  might  fall  to  the  ground.  The 
Natives  reverence  grey  hairs  ;  and  I  dare  say  that  some  of  them  will 
pet  me.  As  for  the  language,  I  manage  to  get  on  after  a  fashion, 
and  smiles  go  a  good  way. 

'  I  assure  you  that  I  have  never  felt  my  heart  lighter  than  I  have 
done  lately,  fond  as  I  am  of  those  I  leave.  It  seems  as  if  the  way 
were  so  plain.  If  I  were  perfectly  dumb,  I  should  still  be  useful  as  a 
chaperon.     But  I  am  not  quite  dumb. 

'  I  had  such  a  golden  First  Sunday  in  Advent  yesterday.  .  .  . 
Fancy  the  encouragement  of  seeing  B — n,  the  one  Christian  con- 
vert residing  in  Batala,  and  sharing  the  Cup  with  him  in  our  dear 
Amritsar  Church.     I  shook  hands  with  him  after  afternoon  service. 


238   LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

I  am  sorry  that  when  I  uttered  the  two  words,  "  Hamara  bhai,"i  I 
should  have  said  "  Hamare,"  instead  of  "  Hamara."  It  was  a  pity 
that  my  first  word  should  have  been  incorrect  ;  but  I  could  not  think 
of  grammar  at  such  a  moment.  .  .  ,  Then  I  have  had  such  an 
encouraging  note  from  dear  Emily,  who  is  making  things  straight 
for  me  at  Batala.  .  .  . — Your  happy  Char.' 

1  '  My  brother.' 


CHAPTER    IV 

A.D.    1876 

A   PALACE   FOR   A   HOME 

In  December  1876  Charlotte  Maria  Tucker  entered  upon 
the  final  stage  of  her  earthly  career.  Final  in  a  sense  ;  for 
though  more  than  once  Batala  had  to  be  temporarily 
deserted,  the  place  was  never  given  up.  Thenceforward, 
Batala  became  in  very  truth  her  home  ;  Batala  work  was 
essentially  her  work  ;  and  the  remaining  years  of  her  life 
were  devoted  to  Batala. 

Having  once  made  up  her  mind  that  she  was  definitely 
called  to  this  particular  post,  nothing  could  withhold  her. 
Difficulties,  oppositions,  hindrances,  prospects  of  loneliness, 
imperfect  knowledge  of  Indian  languages,  increasing  age, — 
all  these  were  as  nothing  in  the  way.  If  she  was  called, 
she  would  go !  And  Miss  Tucker  believed  that  she  was 
called. 

Others  were  not  so  sure.  Mrs  Elmslie  wrote  on  the  8th 
of  December  to  Mrs.  Hamilton :  '  I  agree  with  you  that 
your  beloved  sister's  power  lies  in  gifts  which  can  be  used 
to  perhaps  greater  influence  here  than  in  an  out-station. 
This  isolation  from  European  society  is  not  what  I  should 
have  chosen  for  one  who  can  exercise  so  much  influence 
for  good  among  her  own  countrymen  ;  and  whose  pen 
can  do  more  for  India  than  perhaps  the  lives  of  many 
others.'  No  doubt  this  view  of  the  question  weighed 
greatly   in  the  judgment   of  many.      For  one  who  can 


240  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

write  books  suitable  to  Indian  requirements,  there  are 
scores  of  Missionaries  who  can  with  ease  learn  the  Native 
languages,  and  who  can  visit  and  teach  in  Zenanas,  per- 
haps far  more  effectually  than  A.  L.  O.  E.  did. 

To  lookers-on  it  may  seem  that  she  judged  wrongly 
here  ;  that  her  eagerness  for  personal  work  was  a  mistake  ; 
that  she  might  have  done  more  by  following  the  advice  of 
her  friends,  and  remaining  at  Amritsar.  Advice  she  had  ; 
for  Mrs.  Elmslie  says  in  the  same  letter :  '  We  have  one 
and  all  of  us  tried  to  dissuade  her  from  going ;  but  she 
sees  the  Pillar  going  straight  on  before  her.  And  who  are 
we  that  we  should  gainsay  it  ? ' 

Suppose  she  only  fancied  that  she  '  saw  the  Pillar,' — in 
other  words,  that  she  was  called  or  led  or  ordered  to 
Batala  ?  A  mistake  of  this  description  is  not  impossible, 
especially  in  the  case  of  an  ardent  and  impulsive  nature. 
If  so,  it  was  the  mistake  of  burning  love  and  self-devotion  ; 
and  one  can  well  believe  that  such  a  mistake  must  be 
dearer  to  the  Heart  of  our  Lord  than  the  correct  attitude 
of  those  who  always  decide  on  the  safe  and  comfortable 
side. 

But  why  should  we  imagine  it  to  have  been  a  mistake  ? 
The  true  gist  of  the  matter  is  not,  after  all,  to  be  found  in 
the  question  as  to  which  particular  type  of  work  she  might 
be  best  fitted  for  intellectually.  The  main  question  was 
rather — to  which  especial  work  was  she  bidden  by  her 
Master?  One  can  hardly  live  many  years  on  Earth,  with 
observant  eyes,  and  believe  that  people  are  always  or 
generally  given  exactly  that  work  to  do,  for  which  they 
are  by  natural  powers  best  adapted.  Things  often  seem, 
indeed,  just  the  other  way  ;  people  being  put  to  work  for 
which  they  appear  to  be  least  well  adapted,  and  simply 
having  to  do  their  best.  To  us  it  may  seem  that 
A.  L.  O.  E.'s  pen  was  worth  more  to  India  than  all  her 
heroic  struggles  to  conquer  the  languages  and  to  teach  in 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  241 

Zenanas.  But  if,  as  with  her  whole  heart  she  believed, 
God  had  called  her  to  work  in  Batala, — '  who  are  we,'  to 
say  that  she  should  have  remained  away?  The  Com- 
mander-in-Chief of  an  army  has  a  perfect  right  to  place 
his  soldiers  where  he  will ;  and  so  long  as  the  soldier  who 
is  ordered  to  any  particular  post  hears  the  word  of  com- 
mand, it  matters  very  little  whether  anybody  else  hears 
it  also. 

Suppose  A.  L.  O.  E.  had  not  gone  to  Batala,  but  had 
taken  the  advice  of  others,  and  had  remained  at  Amritsar ! 
Possibly  she  might,  by  devoting  herself  to  writing  alone, 
have  accomplished  treble  or  quadruple  the  number  of 
little  books  and  tracts  for  India  which  she  did  accom- 
plish. But  then  a  very  heroic  example  of  courage  and 
self-devotion  would  have  been  lost  to  the  Church.  At 
Amritsar  she  would  have  had  plenty  of  loving  friends, 
and  would  have  been  altogether  more  comfortable, 
altogether  in  easier  circumstances.  Easy  and  comfortable 
examples,  however,  are  not  rare.  Even  the  writing  of  a 
good  many  more  little  books  might  not  have  made  up  to 
us  for  what  we  should  have  lost  in  other  respects. 

Besides, — she  believed  that  she  had  her  '  marching 
orders.'  Even  if,  by  any  possibility,  she  were  mistaken 
in  that  belief,  she  could  not  disobey.  A  soldier  always 
instantly  obeys  what  he  believes  to  be  the  order  given. 

Yet  it  could  have  been  no  light  matter, — this  going 
forth  alone,  with  only  one  young  companion,  into  a  very 
fastness  of  Muhammadanism  and  Heathenism.  Miss 
Tucker  herself  was  no  longer  young.  Though  marvel- 
lously strong  and  spirited  for  her  time  of  life,  she  was 
now  in  her  fifty-sixth  year ;  hardly  an  age  when,  at  the 
best,  a  woman  is  commonly  willing  to  undertake  great 
responsibilities  in  a  new  and  untried  direction.  It  was, 
however,  true,  as  she  said,  that  if  she  did  not  go,  the 
Mission  in  Batala  could  not  be  at  once  started  —  as 
Q 


242  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

a  resident  Mission.  No  two  young  women  could  have 
gone  there  alone.  They  must  have  waited  for  a  married 
Missionary  and  his  wife  to  head  the  effort. 

In  this  step  of  Miss  Tucker's  a  clue  may  perhaps  be  found 
for  some  lives,  here  or  there,  where  a  vocation  is  earnestly 
sought  and  not  yet  found.  Why  should  not  other  middle- 
aged  ladies  go  out,  as  she  went  out? — not  necessarily 
always  to  attempt  full  Zenana  work ;  but  to  be  protectors, 
housekeepers,  nurses,  to  younger  and  more  active  ladies? 
Whether  it  would  be  right  to  use  any  portion  of  Mission- 
funds  for  such  a  purpose  may  be  doubted  ;  and  in  many  a 
case  Mission  rooms  could  not  be  spared  ;  but  there  are  ex- 
ceptions as  to  the  latter.  And  as  to  the  money  part  of  the 
question,  doubtless  many  a  warm-hearted  lady,  over  fifty 
years  of  age,  free  from  home-ties,  with  a  spirit  full  of  love 
and  self-devotion,  could  afford  to  spend  ;^i  50  or  ;^200  a  year 
on  such  an  object.  Much  might  be  done  by  her  to  cheer 
up  the  workers,  to  leave  them  more  free  for  all  that  needed 
most  to  be  done, — and  indirectly  she  might  help  forward 
the  work  of  evangelisation  by  the  mere  force  of  a  fair 
Christian  example  in  a  dark  land.  There  can  be  no  ques- 
tion that  Miss  Tucker's  life  worked  far  more  effectually 
than  her  words.  What  she  said  may  have  been  long  ago 
forgotten.  What  she  was  will  never  be  forgotten.  Her 
spoken  words  doubtless  had  at  the  time  some  power ;  her 
written  words  perhaps  had  much  more ;  her  life  had  by 
far  the  most  of  all. 

For  any  such  line  of  life  as  is  above  suggested,  however, 
only  that  type  of  woman  is  fit  which  has  been  already 
described  in  some  of  A.  L.  O.  E.'s  letters.  Thin-skinned, 
anxious,  feeble-spirited  ladies,  easily  worried  and  easily 
vexed,  will  not  do ;  and  angular,  managing,  argumenta- 
tive ladies  would  be  quite  as  unsuitable.  Those  alone 
may  venture  who  are  not  only  fairly  strong  in  health, 
vigorous  in  spirit,  fearless  as  to  difficulties,  and  careless  as 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  243 

to  discomforts,  but  who  are  also  gentle,  kind-hearted, 
sympathetic,  willing  to  yield  to  the  judgment  of  others, 
ready  to  please  and  not  to  rule.  Almost  above  every- 
thing else,  there  should  be  a  freedom  from  grumbling 
tendencies.  If  such  elderly  ladies  of  England  are  will- 
ing to  tread  in  A.  L.  O.  E.'s  footsteps,  and  to  give  the 
Evenings  of  their  lives  to  Mission-work,  openings  enough 
for  them  might  be  found. 

The  closing  words  of  Mrs.  Elmslie's  letter  to  Mrs. 
Hamilton  on  December  8,  show  what  Miss  Tucker's 
presence  in  the  Amritsar  bungalow  had  been  :  '  I  shall 
miss  my  darling  Charlotte  much.  She  has  been  sunshine 
to  me  ever  since  she  came ;  and  I  am  accustomed  to 
think  of  her  as  a  very  precious  gift  from  a  loving  Father 
Who  knows  our  need.  I  hope  to  have  her  again  at 
Christmas.  Please  feel  assured  that  we  shall  tenderly 
watch  over  your  dear  one,  even  though  not  so  closely 
together  as  formerly.'  Miss  Wauton  also,  speaking  of 
that  time,  says  :  '  Her  general  presence  was  a  great  cheer 
to  her  fellow-workers  there.' 

Mention  has  been  made  of  the  Mission-tree, — a  large 
banyan,  in  front  of  the  Amritsar  bungalow,  where  Miss 
Tucker  had  now  spent  so  many  months.  The  central 
trunk  had  received  the  name  of  Amritsar,  and  other 
slender  trunks  around,  already  rooted,  had  received  the 
names  of  various  out-stations,  where  occasional  work  had 
been  begun,  but  where  no  Missionaries  yet  resided.  One 
slender  shoot  was  called  after  Batala.  It  had  then  just 
reached  the  ground,  but  was  not  firmly  rooted.  Now,  in 
1895,  it  is  'a  thick,  substantial  trunk.' 

Batala,  a  walled  town,  about  a  mile  across,  has  a 
population  of  some  25,000  people,  and  is  twenty- four 
miles  to  the  east  of  Amritsar.  The  Dalhousie  range  of 
the  mighty  Himalayas  lies  about  fifty  miles  off;  but  the 
mountains,  when   snow-capped,   look    very  much  nearer. 


244  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

In  those  days  there  was  not,  as  there  is  now,  a  Hne  of  rail 
connecting  Amritsar  with  Batala.  The  journey  from  one 
to  the  other  had  commonly  to  be  accomplished,  either 
by  tum-tuin,  a  light  cart,  with  two  or  three  changes  of 
horses  ;  or  else  by  ekka^  a  country  cart,  which  last  mode 
of  conveyance  was  very  often  used  by  Miss  Tucker  in 
coming  years.  It  was  a  peculiarly  rough  and  wearisome 
mode  of  travelling,  the  ekka  having  no  springs  ;  but  very 
early  she  took  to  doing  as  far  as  possible  what  the  Indians 
do  in  such  cases.  Anything  that  would  tend  to  make  her 
one  with  them  was  eagerly  attempted.  For  instance,  she 
began  speedily  to  sit  upon  the  floor  as  Natives  do ;  and  at 
Indian  gatherings  or  feasts  she  would  not  only  sit  as  they 
sat,  but  would  share  their  food.  She  must  have  been 
singularly  supple-jointed  for  her  years,  to  be  able  to  adopt 
this  position  without  any  serious  inconvenience.  The 
Rev.  Robert  Clark  writes,  with  reference  to  her  Batala 
mode  of  life  : — 

'  No  conveyance  was  kept.  Miss  Tucker  always  travelled  in  her  little 
dhoolie  (or  bird's-nest  carriage),  or  in  an  ekka,  a  native  conveyance 
without  springs,  where  a  seat  about  a  yard  square  was  perched  on 
wooden  wheels.  On  this  she  spread  her  bedding,  which  is  always 
carried  about  by  Missionaries.  She  was  so  well  accustomed  to  sit 
on  the  ground,  that  her  legs  in  this  conveyance  never  were  in  the 
way.  She  gracefully  folded  them  before  or  under  her — we  never 
could  tell  how — in  a  position  which  was  very  painful  to  most  Enghsh 
people,  but  which  seemed  quite  natural  to  her.  She  often  used  to 
trot  over  in  this  way,  in  an  ekka,  to  Amritsar,  on  a  road  which 
caused  many  bumps  and  aches  to  most  people's  heads  and  arms  and 
bodies  ;  but  she  would  never  allow  that  the  shaking  of  twenty-four 
miles  of  such  travelling  as  this  ever  did  her  any  harm.  I  think  she 
wished  to  be  an  example  to  us  all.  We  used  to  travel  then  in 
tum-tums  or  buggies,  or  other  vehicles  with  springs.  But  ekkas 
have  much  more  become  the  fashion  in  our  Missionary  circles.' 

One  idea  Miss  Tucker  had,  on  first  going  to  Batala, 
which  the   other  Missionaries  dissuaded    her  with  great 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  245 

difficulty  from  putting  into  execution.  This  was  to  dress 
as  the  Indians  do !  It  was  not  considered  a  wise  or 
desirable  plan,  from  any  point  of  view ;  but  Charlotte 
Tucker  had  gone  so  far,  in  her  enthusiasm,  as  to  provide 
herself  with  a  Native  dress,  and  her  heart  was  very  much 
set  upon  wearing  it.  To  make  her  give  up  this  favourite 
idea  was  no  easy  matter. 

Batala  is  a  picturesque  old  town,  with  fine  banyan-trees, 
and  many  old  mango-tree  gardens  towards  the  north,  en- 
closed either  by  walls  or  by  aloe  hedges,  curiously  appro- 
priate for  A.  L.  O.  E.  It  is  said  that  in  her  younger  days 
a  review  of  some  of  her  books  spoke  of  them  as  being 
'  bitter,  like  the  name  of  their  Author.'  Did  Miss  Tucker 
ever  recall  this  little  notice  when  she  looked  upon  the 
aloe  hedges  of  Batala  ? 

There  is  also  a  large  lake-like  tank  close  to  the  house 
in  which  Miss  Tucker  lived,  and  other  tanks  lie  further 
off.  This  nearer  tank  has  an  ornamental  pleasure-house 
in  the  middle ;  and  the  tomb  of  the  man  who  dug  the 
tank  is  on  its  bank.  Many  handsome  old  tombs  are  to 
be  seen  in  the  place.  The  town  itself  is  old,  with  exceed- 
ingly crooked  and  narrow  streets ;  so  narrow,  that  a  duli 
when  carried  through  often  touches  the  walls  on  both  sides. 
The  Batala  people  have  the  character  of  being  particularly 
bigoted,  hard-natured,  quarrelsome,  and  difificult  to  deal 
with. 

Early  in  1876  Miss  Wauton  had  written  in  the  Society's 
Report :  '  I  think  we  may  consider  the  Batala  Mission 
now  thoroughly  established.'  This  meant  that  about  five 
Girls'  Schools  had  been  opened  for  Hindu,  Sikh,  and 
Muhammadan  scholars,  under  the  superintendence  of  the 
Catechist's  wife,  being  from  time  to  time  visited  by  the 
Amritsar  Missionary  ladies.  The  children  were  taught 
elementary  Christian  truths ;  they  learned  to  sing  simple 
hymns ;    and   books   were   given   to   them.      The   work, 


246  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

however,  was  hardly  more  than  begun,  when  A.  L.  O.  E. 
decided  to  make  Batala  her  home.  One  Native  Catechist 
and  his  wife  were  there ;  one  Batala  man  had  been 
baptized ;  and  a  certain  number  of  children  had  begun  to 
learn  a  few  simple  truths.  For  the  rest,  Batala  was  '  a 
stronghold  of  bigoted  Muhammadanism.' 

And  the  first  thing  which  had  to  be  done  was  not  to 
reap  a  harvest,  not  to  begin  looking  for  results,  but  simply 
to  plough  the  hard  ground,  and  thus  to  make  seed-sowing 
a  matter  of  possibility.  When  the  ground  was  broken  and 
softened,  then  the  seed  might  be  sown  ;  after  that,  the 
sown  seed  could  be  watered,  and  the  harvest  patiently 
waited  for. 

Almost  every  letter  at  this  time  contains  something  of 
interest.  To  quote  half  of  what  might  be  quoted  is 
impossible,  for  lack  of  space.  It  seems,  however,  worth 
while  to  give  fuller  records  of  these  early  days,  when  all 
was  fresh,  and  when  Miss  Tucker's  interests  were  keenly 
awake  to  her  novel  surroundings,  even  though  more  fulness 
here  means  some  curtailing  later. 

A  certain  change  in  the  style  of  her  letters  is  observable 
after  she  reached  India,  especially  in  the  long  series  to 
Mrs.  Hamilton.  Personal  matters  are  pushed  very  much 
into  the  background  ;  while  tendencies  to  introspection  or 
to  moralisings  are  almost  non-existent.  The  letters  fall 
naturally  into  a  simple  record  of  the  work  being  done. 
She  is  far  too  fully  occupied  with  things  and  people 
around  to  have  any  leisure  to  bestow  upon  her  own 
feelings.  Moreover,  the  mode  of  expression  gains  a 
terseness  and  vigour,  not  always  characteristic  of  the 
earlier  correspondence. 

To  write  the  life  of  A.  L.  O.  E.  at  this  period  is  hardly 
possible,  without  at  the  same  time  writing  the  life  of  the 
Infant  Church  at  Batala.  The  one  is  almost  identical 
with  the  other. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  247 

The  house  in  which  their  first  start  was  to  be  made  is 
described  by  Miss  Tucker,  as  will  be  seen,  in  somewhat 
glowing  terms.  She  was  resolutely  bent  upon  making  the 
best  of  everything,  and  upon  seeing  all  around  through  her 
rose-coloured  spectacles.  There  were,  however,  two  sides 
to  the  question.  The  '  house,'  so  called,  was  in  reality  an 
old  Sikh  palace,  *  used  by  Sher  Singh,  son  of  Maharajah 
Singh,  as  a  hunting-box.'  Sher  Singh  is  said  to  have 
spent  no  more  than  one  night  in  it.  The  building  was 
very  substantial,  and  two-storied.  A  central  room  below 
was  over  thirty  feet  in  length,  and  another  exactly  over  it 
was  of  the  same  size.  Other  smaller  rooms  lay  around, 
and  of  these  one  was  chosen  for  Miss  Tucker's  bedroom. 
The  great,  ponderous,  creaking  doors  were  difficult  to 
close  ;  and  the  wind  would  sweep  through  them  in  a 
manner  suggestive  of  chill  and  rheumatism.  In  the 
winter  months  they  were  very  cold  and  comfortless 
apartments.  The  name  of  the  old  palace  was  '  Anar- 
kalli.'i 

'  When  we  first  used  these  rooms,  during  occasional 
visits  to  Batala,'  writes  Miss  Wauton,  *  they  were  largely 
haunted  by  owls,  bats,  and  rats  ;  and  it  was  a  long  time 
before  these  occupants  understood  that  they  had  notice  to 
quit  the  premises.  Then  it  seemed  impossible  ever  to 
make  those  huge,  weird,  gloomy-looking  rooms  at  all  cosy 
and  home-like.  However,  we  did  our  best  with  matting, 
screens,  and  furniture,  to  make  it  look  habitable.  And  in 
Miss  Tucker's  eyes  the  very  strangeness  and  romance  of 
the  place  made  up  for  its  deficiency  in  warmth  and 
comfort'  Mr.  Clark  also,  referring  to  this  large  and 
somewhat  dreary  palace,  says  of  it :  '  The  winds  blew 
through  many  chinks  in  the  uncurtained  doors  ;  and  the 
house  was  once  likened  to  Eden,  because  four  streams 
flowed  through  it.' 

1  Meaning  '  bud  of  a  pomegranate. ' 


248  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Two  days  after  her  arrival  she  wrote  to  her  favourite 
sister  : — 

'Batala,  Dec.  8,  1876. 

'Do  not  connect  Batala  with  any  idea  of  self-sacrifice.  I  am 
astonished  to  find  myself  in  such  a  beautiful  home.  It  is  more 
suited  for  an  Earl  and  Countess  than  for  two  lowly  Missionaries  ; 
and  yet  our  rent  is  only  a  little  more  than  ^20  a  year  !  Certainly, 
we  have  had  to  make  that  very  necessary  article,  a  fireplace,  and  to 
build  servants'  huts  ;  but  the  house  is  grand  !  It  seems  unnatural 
to  be  the  lady  of  it. 

*  We  do  not  intend  to  furnish  the  room  in  which  I  am  now  sitting, — 
till  the  fireplace  is  finished  in  our  smaller  room  we  use  this  fine  apart- 
ment,—but  its  length  is  about  thirty-six  feet.  Poor  Shere  Singh  ! 
little  he  guessed,  when  he  built  the  fair  mansion,  that  he  was  but  to 
sleep  in  it  for  one  night,  and  then  be  murdered  at  Lahore  !  He  never 
dreamed  of  Mission-books,  Bibles,  etc.,  being  stored  up  in  those  most 
convenient  presses  in  the  walls,  which  add  exceedingly  to  one's 
comfort.  For  really  the  native  house  is  not  only  stately,  but 
wondrously  comfortable.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  decidedly  warmer 
than  Amritsar  bungalow — a  matter  of  real  importance  to  me.  It  is  a 
great  deal  lighter,  and  I  suspect  that  in  summer  it  will  be  cooler  also, 
at  least  in  this  room,  which  is  splendidly  protected  from  the  sun. 

'Another  advantage  as  regards  both  health  and  cheerfulness  is 
that  we  live  on  the  first  floor,  and  this  first  floor  is  a  good  height 
from  the  ground.  One  first  ascends  five  steps  to  the  substantial 
platform  on  which  the  house  is  built,  and  then  twenty-nine  steps  to 
our  apartments.  Florrie  and  I  have  each  a  nice,  light,  airy  bedroom, 
with  bathroom  attached.  We  shall  soon  have  a  pleasant  sitting- 
room,  to  which  this  splendid  unfurnished  apartment  will  serve  as  a 
vestibule.' 

'  Dec.  9. — I  have  just  come  from  the  City, — we  live  more  than  half- 
a-mile  out  of  it.  O,  my  Laura,  a  wide  door  is  open  before  us.  I  was 
told  that  Batala  is  a  place  where  we  could  not  read  the  Bible  :  but  I 
have  copied  a  great  deal  into  my  Bible  picture-book  ;  and  there  is  no 
let  or  hindrance  that  I  can  see  in  showing  the  pictures,  and  reading  the 
descriptions,  which  are  God's  own  Word.  ...  I  find  that  a  good  way 
to  begin,  when  I  enter  a  house,  is  by  showing  off  my  Zouave.^  .  .  . 
Every  one  is  delighted  with  it.  A  good  large  group  of  women  and 
children  assemble.  ...  It  is  harder  for  me  to  understand  the  women, 

^  A  clockwork  toy. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  249 

than  it  is  for  them  to  understand  me, — they  sometimes  jabber  so  ; 
and  if  they  mix  Panjabi,  I  am  all  at  sea.  In  the  evenings  I  intend 
to  do  a  little  Panjabi  with  Florrie  ;  and  in  return  I  teach  her  to  play 
the  guitar.  I  have  begun  to  learn  the  alphabet,  which  has  thirty-five 
letters.  We  hope  next  week  to  have  an  Urdu  Munshi  ;  but  I  only 
intend  to  have  one  hour  and  a  half  with  him  [i.e.  daily].  .  .  . 

'  In  nine  days  we  hope  to  make  a  day's  itinerating  tour  to  two 
villages.  There  are  little  schools  in  them, — not  of  course  Christian. 
The  poor  women  here  seem  inclined  to  like  me,  for  which  I  am 
thankful.  Florrie  told  me  to-day  that  she  thought  she  would  have 
gone  into  fits  of  laughter  at  what  was  said  of  me.  My  being  elderly 
and  unmarried  seemed  to  be  giving  an  impression  that  I  was  a  kind 
of  saint  or  faqir, — perhaps  my  being  thin  and  wearing  my  faithful 
old  green  dress  added  to  the  impression.  One  woman  asked  me 
whether  I  had  eaten  anything  that  day.  Florrie  thinks  that  it  was 
from  a  courteous  wish  to  feed  me,  if  I  had  not. 

*  I  arrived  here  on  Thursday, — this  is  Saturday,  Yesterday  I  saw 
poor,  dear  B — n  at  the  house  of  the  Catechist.  He  looked  sad  ;  not 
as  he  looked  in  the  Amritsar  church.  I  suspect  that  his  Cross  is  still 
very  heavy.  .  .  . 

'  I  am  in  excellent  health,  thank  God,  and  Florrie  seems  to  be 
getting  all  right  again.  She  and  I  "pull  well  together,  when  yoked 
twain  and  twain."  I  have  not  seen  a  single  white  face  but  hers — not 
even  in  travelling  here — since  I  left  the  dear  Amritsar  bungalow. 
I  think  that  I  shall  improve  more  rapidly  in  the  language  here  than 
if  I  had  remained  at  my  first  station. 

'What  an  extraordinary  and  somewhat  romantic  position  I  am  in, 
for  an  elderly  lady,  who  in  her  youth  hardly  ever  stirred  from  a 
London  home  !  How  amazed  we  should  have  been  when  we  were 
girls,  if  we  could  have  known  that  I  was  to  find  my  home  in  an 
Oriental  palace — afar  from  all  Europeans — and  itinerate  a  little  in 
heathen  villages  !     How  good  God  has  been  to  your  loving  sister  ! ' 

TO   MRS.   J.    BOSWELL. 

'Dec.  II,  1876. 

'  I  have  not  been  many  days  in  this  my  new  home,  but  I  could  fill 
pages  and  pages  with  Batala.  My  time,  however,  is  precious,  and  I 
must  not  waste  too  much  even  in  writing  to  dear  ones.  ...  I  was 
much  struck  by  an  incident  which  occurred  to-day.  Four  workmen 
are  still  engaged  in  making  a  fireplace  for  us.  This  morning,  as  I 
sat  reading,  waiting  for  my  Munshi,  one  of  the  men  stood  near,  as 


250  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

if  silently  watching  me.  I  thought  this  strange  ;  but,  as  he  was  not 
rude,  I  made  no  remark  but  read  on.  Presently  the  man  said  to 
me,  "Is  that  the  Gospel?"  I  said,  "Would  you  like  to  hear  the 
Gospel?"  He  assented.  I  read  part  of  Matthew  v. ;  and  the  three 
other  men  came  and  listened.  Afterwards  at  morning  prayer  I  sat 
very  near  the  open  door  leading  to  the  room  where  two  of  these 
men  were  working  at  the  fireplace.  Two  of  our  Muhammadan 
servants  come  now  regularly  to  family  prayers.  The  men  at  the 
fireplace  were  so  perfectly  still  that  I  am  sure  they  were  listening 
to  God's  Word.  ...  Of  course,  it  is  quite  optional  with  the  servants 
to  attend  or  not ;  and  the  workmen  could  easily  have  drowned  my 
voice,  if  they  had  chosen  to  do  so.  .  .  . 

'  I  find  my  walking  Zouave  so  very  useful  in  opening  a  way,  that 
I  much  wish  for  five  or  six  clever  clockwork  toys,  such  as  would  take 
the  fancy  of  natives.  .  .  .  The  toys  should  be  rather  small,  and  such 
as  I  could  easily  show  off.  The  floors  are  so  rough,  that  I  am 
obliged  to  make  my  Zouave  walk  on  the  top  of  his  own  tin  box,  short 
as  it  is.    I  feel  the  toys,  if  really  clever,  so  important.  .  .  .' 


TO  MRS.  E . 

^  Dec.  14,  1876. 

'  I  dare  say  that  you  will  be  rather  curious  to  know  how  I  like  my 
new  home.  I  like  it  very  much  indeed.  I  cannot  tell  you  what  the 
city  is  like  ;  for  though  I  have  been  into  it  every  day  but  to-day,  I 
cannot  say  that  I  know  anything  of  its  general  appearance,  except 
that  the  streets  are  extremely  narrow,  and  that  the  houses  appear  to 
be  made  of  brick.  The  fact  is  that  I  never  go  into  the  city,  except 
shut  up  in  a  duli,  a  kind  of  box  with  no  window.  Unless  I  push  the 
curtain  a  little  back,  I  see  nothing,  and  nobody  can  see  me.  I 
am  rather  careful  about  the  proprieties  ;  and  to  be  carried  in  a  box 
is  the  correct  thing.     My  duli  is  red  ;  Florrie's  moderately  white. 

'  Now  fancy  yourself  at  my  side,  dearest  Aunt.  I  will  give  you  a 
kind  of  rough  idea  of  what  is  said  and  done,  after  my  duli  has  stopped 
at  the  door  of  one  of  the  four  Zenanas  now  open  to  us  at  Batala.  I 
will  suppose  C.  M.  T.  alone,  as  she  sometimes  is. 

'  C.  M.  T.  gets  out  of  her  box,  and  enters, — perhaps  mounting  a 
small,  rather  dark  staircase.  Presently  she  finds  herself  in  a  place 
where  there  are  perhaps  a  dozen  or  twenty  women  and  children. 

'  C.  M.  T.  miles,  says,  "  Salaam,"  and  informs  her  who  seems  the 
chief  woman  that  she  is  happy  to  see  her.    A  bed  or  perhaps  an  arm- 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  251 

chair  is  politely  put  for  C.  M.  T.  to  sit  down  on.  .  .  .  C.  M.  T.  begins  by 
showing  ofif  a  clockwork  figure  that  can  walk.  Women  and  children 
look  on  with  curiosity  and  pleasure.  Says  C.  M.  T.,  "The  doll  is 
cleverer  than  the  idols  ;  it  can  walk."  The  house  being  Muhammadan, 
the  observation  is  approved  of;  and  C.  M.  T.  amuses  the  good  folk 
by  a  few  lively  remarks  as  to  the  doll  being  weak  or  tired,  etc. 

'Then  C.  M.  T.  says,  "I  have  made  a  very  long  journey  from 
Europe  by  sea.  I  have  come  thousands  of  miles.  Why  have  I 
come?"  Silence  amongst  my  auditors,  "  I  have  come  to  give  good 
news."  They  listen  with  interest.  "Jesus  Christ  came  into  the 
world  to  save  sinners.  This  is  good  news.  We  are  all  sinners. 
He  died  for  us,"  etc.  None  look  angry  ;  some  look  pleased  ;  some 
look  tenderly  at  me,  as  if  they  thought  me  very  kind  to  come  such  a 
long  way  to  give  them  good  news. 

'  Then  a  Bible  picture-book  is  opened ;  perhaps  the  story  of  the 
Fall  read.  Muhammadans  believe  a  great  deal  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment ;  one  can  talk  to  them  of  "  Father  Adam,"  and  "  Mother  Eve," 
without  shocking  them  in  the  least.  I  cannot  talk  much, — very  little 
indeed, — but  I  can  say  such  things  as  I  have  written  above,  and 
tell  the  dear  women  that  I  am  happy,  that  I  do  not  fear  death  at  all, 
because  I  believe  that  the  Lord  bore  the  punishment  of  my  sins  on 
the  Cross. 

'  I  have  not  met  with  any  discourtesy.  There  are  three  things  in 
my  favour — my  age  ;  my  family  being  of  the  Sarkar-log  ;  ^  and  my 
receiving  no  salary.  .  .  .  Another  thing  which  seems  to  awaken  a 
sort  of  interest  is  the  fact  of  my  being  unmarried.  I  have  met 
with  the  idea  that  there  is  some  merit  in  celibacy.  I  repudiated 
it,  and  said  that  in  our  Book  marriage  is  spoken  of  as  an  honour- 
able thing.' 

TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

'Dec.  16,  1876. 

'  We  never  drive  in  Batala,  but  on  the  roads  outside.  Of  course 
we  often  meet  Natives.  Some  of  them  salaam  to  us,  and  I  make  a 
point  of  bowing  with  marked  courtesy  when  they  do  so.  One  feels 
the  salaam  a  breaking  of  the  ice.  Those  who  have  exchanged  greet- 
ings on  the  road  with  us  are  less  likely  to  shut  their  doors  against  the 
polite  strangers.  Florrie  has  been  admitted  into  a  fifth  Zenana  to- 
day. The  Catechist  thinks  that  after  a  while  there  will  be  more  work 
than  we  can  overtake.' 

1  Connected  with  the  Government. 


252    LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.   TUCKER 

TO   MRS.  J.    BOSWELL. 

'  Christmas  Day,  1876. 

*Is  not  this  a  curious  life  for  me?  What  a  contrast  Batala  is  to 
Marylebone  !  But  I  stand  up  for  Batala.  This  is  a  capital  house, 
in  spite  of  rats.  You  should  see  Florrie  and  me  in  our  tam-tam 
driving  along  kachcha  roads,'  the  odd-looking  conveyance  plunging 
up  and  down  or  from  side  to  side,  like  a  boat  on  a  rough  sea.  Or  fancy 
me  seated  in  my  red  duli  starting  for  the  city.  I  remember  how  I 
looked  on  the  picture  of  such  a  red  duli,  painted  on  talc^  and  pitied 
native  ladies  for  having  to  travel  in  a  box.  It  really,  however,  is 
not  bad,  and  it  is  the  only  practicable  conveyance  for  the  narrow 
streets  of  Batala.' 

1  Rough  roads,  unmade  roads. 


CHAPTER    V 

A.D.  1877 

DISAPPOINTMENTS   AND   DELAYS 

The  year  1877  dawned  full  of  work  and  full  of  hope,  in 
Batala.  Fresh  openings  were  appearing  on  all  sides  ; 
and  to  the  four  Zenanas  which  at  first  could  alone  be 
entered,  others  had  been  already  added.  Then  suddenly 
came  a  check.  Miss  Tucker's  hard-working  companion, 
who  had  all  through  suffered  much  from  the  Panjab 
climate,  broke  down,  and  was  ordered  off  to  England. 
For  Miss  Tucker  to  remain  alone  at  Batala,  without  a 
single  European  companion,  could  not  be  thought  of; 
and  so  many  Missionaries  had  been  invalided  during  the 
past  unhealthy  year,  that  no  one  else  could  possibly  be 
spared.     She  had  perforce  to  return  to  Amritsar. 

The  great  disappointment — and  very  great  it  was — she 
took  patiently,  even  cheerily.  Some  considered  a  few 
months  more  at  Amritsar  no  bad  thing  for  her  or  for  her 
future  work.  She  had  freedom  from  responsibility,  and 
more  leisure  in  consequence  for  study  and  for  writing. 
Many  a  short  story  went  forth  from  her  busy  pen  that 
winter  for  India's  millions.  But  her  eyes  were  still  bent 
longingly  upon  Batala ;  and  her  whole  desire  and  prayer 
were  that  she  might  soon  return  there  again. 

Nor  had  she  to  wait  long  before  the  granting  of  her 
wish.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Beutel,  then  resident  at  Amritsar, 
were  appointed  C.M.S.  Missionaries  at  Batala ;  and  when 

253 


254  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

they  went  she  could  go  also.     Mr.   Beutel  describes  as 
follows  the  course  of  events  : — 

*One  day — it  was  early  in  1877 — after  returning  from  a  preaching- 
place  in  the  city  (Amritsar),  I  met  Miss  Tucker  on  my  way  home. 
She  was  glad  to  see  me,  and  then  told  me  of  her  intention  of  going  to 
settle  at  Batala,  provided  that  my  wife  and  I  were  willing  and  prepared 
to  go  with  her.  After  a  while  this  was  sanctioned,  and  consequently 
we  left  Amritsar  for  Batala  in  April,  and  settled  in  the  old  house 
.  .  .  which  is  still  used  for  the  Christian  Boarding  School.  It  then 
looked  like  a  haunted  house,  inhabited  by  owls, — which  regularly  had 
a  dance  in  the  loft  almost  every  night ! — bats  and  wasps,  etc.  Miss 
Tucker  occupied  the  one  wing  of  the  upper  story,  and  we  the  other. 
The  centre-hall  served  as  a  dining-room.    She  was  our  daily  boarder. 

'  As  a  rule  she  rose  very  early  in  the  morning.  After  her  morning 
walk,  service,  and  breakfast,  she  regularly  went  out  into  the  city,  to 
see  and  teach  some  women  in  their  houses,  occasionally  accompanied 
by  my  wife.  Now  and  then  she  also  paid  visits,  like  myself,  to  the 
villages  in  the  neighbourhood.  As  a  rule  the  afternoons  were  filled 
up  by  her  with  the  study  of  the  language,  reading  and  writing,  etc. 

'  But,  alas  !  not  quite  two  months  had  passed,  when  both  Miss 
Tucker  and  my  wife  were  laid  up  with  fever.  The  chief  cause  of 
this,  as  the  Doctor  afterwards  explained,  seemed  to  be  the  stagnant 
water  almost  all  around  the  house  ;  and  he  ordered  them  both  away 
as  quickly  as  possible.  Consequently  we  all  returned  to  Amritsar 
by  the  end  of  May  1877,  and  settled  again  in  our  old  quarters. 

'As  soon  as  the  hot  season  was  over,  we  all  went  back  to  Batala, 
a  second  time.  The  condition  of  the  house  was  as  bad  as  before  ; 
but  Miss  Tucker  immediately  offered  her  help,  and  I  set  about  fifty 
people  to  work.  The  ground  near  the  house  was  soon  raised  about 
two  feet  or  more  ;  and  consequently  the  place  became  more  healthy, 
so  that  this  time  we  could  stay  there  all  the  winter,  doing  our  work 
as  before.' 

After  a  few  months,  however,  came  a  renewed  check. 
Mr.  Beutel  was  required  for  work  in  Amritsar ;  and  when 
he  and  his  wife  left  Batala,  Miss  Tucker  had  to  leave  also. 
Once  more  she  was  obliged  to  settle  down  for  a  term  of 
patient  waiting  and  study  at  Amritsar. 

Not  till  the  spring  of  1878  was  any  really  permanent 
arrangement  made.     Then  a  school  of  Panjabi  boys  was 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  255 

removed  from  Amritsar  to  the  old  palace,  under  the 
presidency  of  the  Rev.  Francis  Baring ;  and  Miss  Tucker 
went  to  live  under  the  same  roof,  to  carry  on  the  work 
among  women  of  Batala.  Thenceforward  her  home  was 
at  Batala  to  the  end.  Throughout  the  year  1877  she  had 
much  of  doubt  and  disappointment  to  endure ;  but  her 
brave  trustfulness  never  broke  down  under  the  strain. 
Charlotte  Tucker  was  a  thoroughly  loyal  soldier  of  the 
Cross, — willing  to  go,  or  willing  to  stay,  as  her  Master 
might  dictate.  Her  heart's  desire  was  to  live  and  toil 
in  Batala  ;  but  a  yet  deeper  desire  of  her  whole  being  was 
to  carry  out  His  Will,  whatever  that  Will  might  be. 
The  Centurion's  words,  '  I  am  a  man  under  authority,' 
may  be  cited  as  peculiarly  applicable  to  her.  If  God's 
Will  for  her  were  Amritsar,  not  Batala,  she  would  be 
content. 

For  a  short  time,  seemingly,  things  were  so  ;  but  not 
for  long.  Fresh  plans  in  1878  would  make  all  clear. 
Meanwhile  some  months  of  change  and  uncertainty  did 
no  harm.  They  were  but  part  of  the  polishing  of  the 
golden  staff  of  her  Will, — to  revert  to  her  own  allegory  of 
earlier  days. 

The  history  of  these  months,  beginning  with  the  time 
when  she  was  first  at  Batala  with  Miss  Swainson,  will  best 
be  told  by  occasional  extracts  from  the  abundance  of 
letters  remaining. 

TO   MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

*  Batala,  Jaft.  4,  1877. 

'  Here  we  are  in  a  regular  "  fix,"  as  the  boys  would  say, — no  bread 
nor  butter  in  the  house,  and  with  the  probability  of  a  grand  lady,  a 
Commissioner's  wife,  coming  to-day,  perhaps  to  stop  the  night.  Pity 
the  sorrows  of— of  ladies  twenty  miles  from  civilised  life.  I  'm  not 
housekeeper,  so  I  can  laugh  ;  but  poor  dear  Florrie  !  !  You  can  feel 
for  her.     This  is  how  we  srot  into  the  fix. 


256  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

'  We  settled  on  to-day,  Thursday,  for  a  general  giving  of  prizes  in 
the  six  City  schools.  Several  pounds  have  been  spent  on  prizes,  and 
Florrie  and  I  were  for  hours  yesterday  ticketing  and  preparing  them. 
The  prize-giving  is  of  real  importance  ;  for  we  give  prizes  instead  of 
money,  as  the  Government  gives.  To  throw  eclat  on  the  affair,  we 
asked  Mrs.  T.  to  give  the  prizes  away,  which  she  kindly  consented 
to  do.  A  note  was  sent  to  her  on  Tuesday  morning  by  a  kahar,^ 
to  tell  her  the  day,  and  the  kahar  was  to  bring  back  bread  and 
butter,  which  we  have  always  to  get  from  Amritsar,  twenty-four 
miles  off. 

'Thursday  morning,  the  grand  morning,  has  arrived, — nay,  it  is 
nearly  eleven  o'clock,  and  the  children  of  six  schools,  their  teachers 
and  their  mothers,  and  perhaps  scores  of  women  besides,  will  be  on  the 
tiptoe  of  expectation, — and  our  kahar  has  never  returfted !  !  !  We 
don't  know  whether  Mrs.  T.  is  coming  ;  we  don't  know  whether  she 
is  sticking  half-way  on  the  road,  waiting  for  the  horse  which  we 
offered  to  send  twelve  miles,  if  she  required  it !  Like  the  famous 
little  pig,  we  have  eaten  all  the  bread  and  butter  ;  and  if  the  grand 
lady  arrives — without  that  faithless  kahar— what  shall  we  give  her  to 
eat  ?  I  urged  Florrie  at  least  to  send  to  the  city  for  meat ;  but  she 
fears  that  in  the  absence  of  the  cook  the  guest  may  arrive. 

'  O  dear  !  O  dear  !  Why  did  we  trust  that  sust  -  kahar, — or  eat  up 
all  the  bread .?  O  how  shall  the  bari  Bibi  ever  be  fed  ?  I  must  go 
and  try  to  cheer  up  poor  Florrie,  who  suffers  from  her  head,  in 
addition  to  being  in  this  "  fix."  I  must  tell  you  how  the  matter  ends 
afterwards. 

'  Don't  fancy  we  're  starving  !  Oh,  nothing  like  it !  We  had  a 
famous  breakfast,  chapatties,^  eggs,  etc.     We  don't  starve  ! 

''Later. — No  one  has  appeared.  No  tidings  either  of  lady  or 
kahar ;  but  Florrie  has  sent  for  meat.  She  told  me  that  the  poor 
children  had  said  that  they  would  be  ready  at  7  A.M.  If  so,  they 
must  be  rather  tired  by  this  time,  nearly  11^  A.M.  .  .  . 

''Later. — The  kahar  came  at  last,  and  brought  the  provisions,  and 
a  note  from  Mrs.  T.  to  say  that  she  is  coming  to-morrow. 

''Jan.  6. — I  was  rather  glad  when  yesterday's  grand  affair  was  over. 
As  we  had  two  dulis  for  three  ladies,  we  had  to  manage  by  Florrie 
always  going  first, — i.e.  she  proceeded  to  School  2,  while  we  lingered 
at  No.  I— to  School  3,  while  we  stopped  at  2,  etc.  I  had  to  try 
to  amuse  and  show  off  the  children  to  Mrs.  T.  during  the  waiting 

1  Duli-carrier.  2  \^q,,  :<  Flat  cakes  of  bread. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  257 

time,  which  sometimes  seemed  rather  long,  especially  where  the  girls 
would  not  sing.    In  vain  I  started  even  a  bhajan  ^  in  one  of  the  schools. 

TO  MR.   AND   MRS.   CHARLES  TUCKER. 

*  Bat  ALA,  Jan.  6,  1877. 

'How  well  I  can  fancy  you  in  your  home,  with  the  wide  blue 
expanse  of  Ontario  stretching  in  front.  I  suppose  the  world  looks 
very  white  with  you  just  now  ;  with  us  it  is  pretty  green.  We  have 
no  garden,  but  our  large  house  stands  in  the  country,  without  any 
enclosure.  Herds  of  goats  or  strings  of  camels  could  pass  near  to 
our  mansion.  There  is  certainly  not  much  noise  of  carriages.  Here 
the  sight  of  a  dak-gari  is  somewhat  rare  ;  and  in  the  city  I  have 
never  seen  any  wheel  vehicle,  except  bullock-carts  in  the  wider 
streets.  We  can  sometimes  hardly  get  through  the  narrow  streets 
in  our  duli ;  and  I  am  not  aware  that  there  are  any  other  dulis  in 
Batala  except  that  of  the  Catechist's  wife. 

'  Very  funny  things  we  hear  of  ourselves ;  and  I  dare  say  many 
funny  things  are  said  that  we  do  not  hear.  In  one  place  which  my 
companion  visited,  in  company  with  E.,  the  Catechist's  wife,  she 
overheard  the  remark  that  she — Miss  Swainson— was  the  husband, 
and  E.  her  bibi.  I  think  that  I  excite  more  curiosity  than  my 
companion  on  account  of  my  age.  On  account,  I  suppose,  of  an 
Englishwoman  with  any  silver  hair  being  a  rarity  in  India,  I  seem  to 
be  sometimes  considered  wonderfully  old.  Florrie  told  me  that  she 
had  heard  the  women  talking  as  they  might  have  done  had  I  been  a 
hundred  years  old. 

'  One  day  I  wore  brown  kid  gloves.  My  hands  were  looked  at 
with  surprise.  I  suppose  that  the  women  wondered  why  I  should 
have  brown  hands  and  a  white  face.  I  pulled  off  my  gloves,  and  this 
seemed  a  new  cause  for  surprise.  Natives  are  very  curious.  One  .  .  . 
young  man  of  good  family  acts  as  my  Munshi.  He  told  me  to-day 
that  his  aunt  wished  to  know  whether  I  have  any  salary.  How 
astonished  we  should  be  if  French  or  drawing  masters  asked  such 
questions  in  England  !  I  have  been  asked  what  salary  my  nephew 
receives.  My  being  unmarried  makes  me  doubly  an  object  of 
curiosity  to  the  Hindu  women. 

'  A  poor  woman  came  the  other  day  to  see  us,  and  brought  us  some 

common  yellow  flowers.     I  did  not  at  all  admire  them,  but  I  thought 

it  only  courteous  to  accept  so   small  a  present  graciously.      Miss 

Swainson  did  not  like  to  accept  the  flowers — I  did  not  know  why.  ,  .  . 

1  Native  song,  or  hymn  set  to  Native  tune. 

R 


258  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

She  told  me  afterwards  that  she  was  afraid  they  were  brought  as 
religious  offerings, — flowers  are  what  are  used  for  such  offerings, — 
and  she  had  heard  repeatedly  that  we  are  'devi.'^  What  gross, 
fearful  ignorance  !  I  heard  on  good  authority  that  in  one  place  in 
India,  not  the  Panjab,  offerings  are  actually  made  to  a  dead  European, 
who  was  a  special  object  of  dread  to  the  Natives,  and  whom  they 
therefore  wish  to  propitiate  as  a  kind  of  demon  !  Do  not  the  poor, 
deluded  creatures  want  teachers  ?  I  find  the  women  in  general  very 
gentle  and  courteous,  and  quite  willing  to  listen  when  they  are 
spoken  to  on  the  subject  of  religion.  With  the  men — except  of  course 
the  servants — we  have  little  to  do.' 


TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

'  Batala,  Jan.  9. 

'  Florrie  and  I  hired  four  extra  kahars,  took  earlier  breakfast,  and 

started  this  morning  for  O ,  the  village  in  which,  as  you  may 

remember,  I  encamped  for  two  or  three  days  with  my  Margaret, 
about  ten  or  twelve  months  ago. 

'  We  started  on  foot,  as  it  was  not  at  all  too  hot  for  a  walk  ;  and 
though  we  never  walk  in  the  city,  we  have  no  objection  to  doing  so 
in  the  country.  Our  dulis,  white  and  red,  with  eight  kahars,  followed 
us.  When  we  had  walked  about  a  mile,  whom  should  we  meet  but 
the  postman,  with  the  English  letters  !  I  popped  the  rest  of  the 
things  into  the  duli,  but  read  my  Laura's  despatch  as  I  walked  along 
the  dusty  lane.  Very  many  thanks  both  to  you  and  to  dearest  Leila. 
The  bonnet  has  not  yet  arrived, — I  dare  say  it  will  be  very  elegant, 
— and  yet,  as  v/ell  as  the  bag,  owe  its  chief  value  to  the  love  sewn  up 
in  it.     Your  lovely  tidies  ornament  my  Batala  home. 

'  When  F.  and  I  returned  from  the  village,  being  rather  tired  of 
going  about  twelve  miles  in  a  canvas  box, — of  course  there  is  no 
seat  in  it ;  one  sits  half-Oriental  style  on  a  kind  of  coarse  carpet, — I 
got  out  to  walk  the  last  mile  home.' 

'  Amritsar,  Jan.  13. — My  note  to  dear  Leila  will  tell  you  of  the 
change  which  now  a  good  deal  engrosses  my  mind.  You  did  not  like 
my  going  to  Batala ;  and  as  far  as  we  can  see,  our  Heavenly  Father 
does  not  intend  us  to  remain  there.  He  is  Wisdom  ;  and  what  to  us 
seems  mysterious  and  trying  must  in  the  end  be  seen  to  be  right.  .  .  . 

'Ah,  well,  it  is  doubtless  good  to  have  the  branches  shaken,  on 
which  we  perch  ;  and  happily  I  have  built  no  elaborate  nest.' 

1  Divinities. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  259 

TO  MISS  *  LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

*  BaTALA,  Jan.  20. 

'  I  am  writing  in  such  a  dismantled  room,  making  a  table  of  a  chair, 
and  sitting  on  the  floor.  My  luggage  went  off  yesterday — such  a 
quantity  !  My  big  boxes  and  little  boxes,  chairs,  tables,  almira,  sofa, 
etc.  I  do  not  intend  to  unpack  more  than  I  can  help,  for  I  rather  hope 
to  have  another  move  before  long, — a  move  back  to  dear  Batala.  .  .  . 

'  I  have  been  round  to  the  six  schools  and  three  Zenanas,  explaining 
the  sad  cause  of  our  sudden  departure.  I  have  found  sympathy  and 
kindness.  On  three  faces  at  least  there  were  tears.  Facts  are  often 
more  eloquent  than  words  !  The  Batala  people  have  seen  B — n 
suffering  keen  anguish  for  Christ's  sake  ;   they  see  that  the  property 

which  was 's  is  his  no  more,  for  Christ's  sake.      They  have  seen 

two  ladies  going  fearlessly,  trustingly,  amongst  them,  one  of  them  old, 
and  the  other  so  ill  that  she  has  fairly  broken  down  in  her  work — for 
Christ's  sake  !  These  things  may  tell  more  even  than  preaching.  .  .  . 
With  God's  blessing  Batala  will  yet  be  ours. 

'  Strange  to  say,  the  Mission  has  just  bought  a  house  in  the  midst 
of  the  City  ;  not  hired,  but  bought  it  out  and  out.  I  went  over  it 
yesterday.  .  .  .  There  is  room  on  that  ground  to  build  a  church  on. 
And,  please  God,  we  shall  have  a  church  there  some  day.  Nil 
desperandum.^ 

To  another  she  wrote  on  the  same  day  :  *  It  seems  very 
sad,  when  there  had  been  such  a  promising  beginning ;  a 
new  and  interesting  Zenana  opened  to  me  only  yesterday ; 
and  I  must  quit  Batala  to-day,  for  one  lady  cannot  stay 
by  herself.  But  I  am  not  in  the  least  discouraged.  I 
believe  that  the  Almighty  will  not  suffer  the  Mission  to  be 
permanently  broken  up.  He  will  send  some  one  to  take 
poor  Florrie's  place ;  and  then  I  am  ready,  at  twenty-four 
hours'  notice,  to  return  to  my  post.  I  hear  that  the  women 
are  very  sorry  for  our  going.  I  have  myself  seen  tears  on 
brown  faces.'      Her  confident  hope  was  soon  to  come  true. 

'  Mission  Bungalow,  Jan.  29. — Here  I  am,  back  again  in  my 
nice  large  room.  My  nieces  would  have  it  so,  and  made  all 
arrangements  during  my  absence.  ...  I  must  tell  dear  Leila  what 
C.  H.  said  one  day,  absurd  as  it  sounds ;  but  it  was  a  compliment  to 
her  work,  therefore  I  repeat  it.    "  How  bonny  the  Auntie  looks  in  her 


26o  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

new  bonnet ! "  There  is  a  bit  of  flattery,  spoken  for  once  by  one 
who  is  particularly  plain-spoken  !  But  it  was  the  bonnet  that  was 
bonny,  not  your  loving  old  sister.' 

TO  MISS  'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

^  March  5,  1877. 
'  Many  thanks  to  you  and  your  sweet  Mother  for  your  loving  notes 
and  the  Illustrated.  I  am  glad  that  I  have  not  been  sent  Froggy' s 
Brother.  Not  only  am  I  afraid  of  shedding  one  useless  tear ;  but  I 
seem  to  have  scarcely  any  time  for  reading  what  is  unconnected  with 
my  work.  I  have  begun  the  Koran,  which  will  be  rather  a  tedious 
task, — only  in  English, — but  I  think  it  well  to  read  it,  and  a  few  books 
of  manners  and  customs.  Then  I  have  two  Munshis  ;  and  with  my 
imperfect  memory,  I  must  be  perpetually  going  over  and  over  what  I 
learn,  so  as  not  to  lose  it.  Then  I  ought  to  write,  whenever  I  can, 
and  visit  Natives  a  little  ;  and  we  have  so  many  interruptions.  The 
day  passes  so  fast ;  and  perhaps  at  the  end  one  feels — "  What  has 
been  done  ? — how  little  ! "  But  as  for  sitting  down  to  amuse  oneself 
with  an  English  story-book, — how  can  that  be  done  by  your  attached 
old  Missionary  Auntie?' 

TO   W.    F.   T.    HAMILTON. 

'■March  9,  1877. 

'  I  am  about  a  very  tedious  work,  reading  through  the  Koran  in 
English.  I  think  that  it  may  be  very  desirable  for  me  to  be  able  to 
say — "  I  have  read  your  Koran  right  through."  But,  oh,  how  sleepy 
one  gets  over  the  book  !  It  is  so  full  of  repetitions  ;  the  same  ideas 
and  stories  over  and  over  again.  I  am  perfectly  well,  and  the  weather 
is  now  charming,—  such  a  comfort  to  get  rid  of  the  cold  ! — but  I 
believe  that  I  twice  this  forenoon  went  to  sleep,  simply  from  reading 
the  Koran.  I  read  and  read,  then  leant  back  in  my  comfortable 
chair,  and  took  a  nap  ! 

'  The  poor  Muhammadans  must  get  a  painful  idea  of  the  Almighty 
from  their  book.  It  seems  almost  a  mockery  to  head  almost  every 
"Sura"  with  "In  the  Name  of  God  the  Compassionate,  the  Merciful." 
One  is  so  perpetually  reading  of  the  torments  of  unbelievers,  the 
fires  of  Gehenna,  etc.  !  Our  Lord  is  written  of  with  great  respect,  and 
His  Birth  regarded  as  quite  miraculous  ;  but  the  Muhammadans  will 
not  beheve  Him  to  be  the  "  Son  of  God."  There  is  a  great  deal  about 
Abraham,  Moses,  Joseph,  etc.,  in  the  Koran  ;  Old  Testament  stories 
altered  and  enlarged  upon,  to  suit  Muhammadan  tastes.  I  have  met 
with  no  reference  to  the  Blood  of  Atonement ;  in  the  account  of  the 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  261 

Exodus,  given  over  and  over,  there  is  no  allusion  to  the   Paschal 
Lamb  ;  Muhammadanism  appears  as  a  religion  of  works. 

'  It  would  seem  to  me  to  be  a  dreary  kind  of  religion,  and  well 
suited  to  make  men  hard  and  stern.  Of  the  three  religions  in  the 
Panjab,  I  think  Sikhism  by  far  the  best ;  but  then  the  race  of  those 
who  profess  it  in  purity  seems  to  be  dying  away.  .  .  .  The  Enemy 
would  not  leave  poor  Man  even  the  scraps  of  Truth  bequeathed  by 
the  noble  Guru  Nanak.  It  is  a  sad  pity.  Hearts  which  had  only 
known  pure  Sikhism  might  have  formed  a  rich  soil  to  receive  the  seed 
of  the  Gospel.' 

Early  in  March  it  was  arranged,  to  her  great  joy,  that 
before  the  close  of  the  month  she  might  expect  to  be 
back  in  Batala  again,  living  there  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Beutel.  When  the  time  came,  the  roads  being  especially 
bad  with  the  heavy  rains,  Miss  Tucker  performed  her 
journey  from  Amritsar  to  Batala  in  what  she  called  'a  most 
luxurious  conveyance, — the  big,  heavy  Government  dak 
gari,^  in  which  one  can  recline  at  ease,  as  if  in  a  bed.'  The 
twenty-four  miles' drive  proved,  however,  to  be  not  altogether 
luxurious  ;  for  on  the  worst  and  roughest  part  of  the  road 
the  whole  gari  went  over  on  its  side, — '  one  big  wheel  aloft, 
another  big  wheel  below.'  Miss  Tucker  being  entirely 
unhurt,  thought  mainly  of  the  safety  of  her  desks  and  of 
her  '  dear  travelling  clock.'  She  found  them,  to  her  great 
relief,  'quite  serene,'  as  serene  as  she  was  herself  in  her 
'funny  position,' — the  clock  ticking  placidly  on,  undisturbed 
by  the  jar.    Describing  the  scene  afterwards,  she  continued  : 

'A  number  of  men  came  to  the  aid  of  our  forlorn  conveyance, 
down  in  the  mud.  The  horses  were  of  course  released  from 
the  traces.  Many  hands  make  light  work ;  so,  with  a  good  deaL 
of  pushing  and  shouting  and  tamasha,  the  carriage  was  set  up  again 
on  its  wheels.  I  got  out,  thinking  that  I  should  have  to  trudge 
through  the  mud  on  foot,  carrying  my  clock  in  my  hand.  But  I 
was  not  obliged  to  make  my  entry  into  my  palace  in  so  humble  a 
fashion.  I  was  able  to  re-enter  the  gari.  Of  course,  I  presented  the 
natives  with  a  reward.' 

1  A  kind  of  post-chaise. 


262  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

^  April  14,  1877. — I  wrote  to  our  Commissioner  to  ask  his  per- 
mission for  fish  to  be  caught  in  the  large  tank,  close  to  which  our 
mansion  is  built.  He  politely  replied  that  we  were  welcome  to  fish 
with  hook  and  line,  but  that  a  net  is  prohibited.  I  am  rather  amused 
to  find  that  our  dear,  kind-hearted  Germans  cannot  bear  to  give  to 
the  fish  the  suffering  which  a  hook  would  inflict.  I  think  that  we 
shall  do  without  fish. 

'Such  stormy — oh,  such  stormy  weather  as  we  have  had,  night 
after  night !  There  have  been  such  thunder  and  lightning,  and 
rushing  blast,  and  banging  of  doors  and  windows,  as  if  in  this 
great  echoing  house  there  were  pistol  practice.  .  ,  .  Those  Indian 
unmanageable  doors  and  windows  are  the  worst  of  it,  particularly 
if  any  inmate  of  the  house  has  headache  or  fever.  One  wanders 
about  in  the  dark, — perhaps  helped  by  the  lightning, — to  find  the 
region  of  a  door  that  is  the  chief  offender.  The  one  which  I 
managed  to  shut  in  the  night,  for  the  first  time  since  my  coming 
chose  to  shut  itself  in  the  morning,  so  that  neither  I  nor  my  Ayah 
could  open  it.  Some  one  had  to  go  round  by  another  route  to  lift 
the  latch,  which  had  gone  down  without  being  touched.' 

In  the  same  letter,  speaking  of  a  young  Indian,  who  had 
eagerly  said  to  her  that '  the  Bible  is  the  light  of  our  eyes, 
and  the  root  of  our  faith,'  she  sadly  remarked  that  it  was 
'  almost  sickening '  to  think  what  the  young  Muhammadan 
'would  have  to  endure,  did  he  openly  confess  Christ,' — 
even  while  earnestly  hoping  that  he  would  be  constrained 
'  by  the  cords  of  love '  to  leave  all  and  come  forward. 

TO   MISS   LAURA  V.   TUCKER. 

^  May  2,  1877. 

'Thanks  many,  darling  Laura,  for  your  dear,  sweet  letter.     You 

speak  of  the  flowers.     Ah,  if  I  could  but  give  you  a  sight  of  the 

glorious  pink  water-lilies  or  lotuses  out  of  our  nice  tank  !     I  am  not 

sure,  however,  whether  I  would  not  change  them  for — cabbages  ; 

certainly  I  would  for  cauliflowers.     It  is  not  very  easy  to  get  our 

vegetables,  twenty  miles  away  from  an  English  garden.     However, 

V.    brought    two    cucumbers    to-day, — a    welcome    sight, — and    a 

Native  presented  us  with  some  kelas,i — more  welcome  still.      My 

experience  is  that  fruit  and  vegetables  are  particularly  conducive  to 

health  in  India. 

1  Bananas. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  263 

*  You  may  rejoice  to  hear  that  we  have  got  rid  of  our  very  wicked 
cook.  .  .  .  But  it  is  funny  to  have  no  cook  at  all !  !  Mrs.  Beutel's  old 
mother  does  all  the  cooking  ;  perhaps  Mrs.  Beutel  helps  a  little  ; 
and  it  puts  her  quite  into  spirits.  If  we  were  not  likely  to  go  into 
Amritsar  in  ten  or  eleven  days,  I  think  that  we  should  be  obliged  to 
procure  a  cook.  It  is  a  most  unusual  thing  for  Europeans  to  cook 
in  a  Panjab  May  ;  every  day  likely  to  get  warmer  and  warmer  !  And 
if  Mrs.  J.  fell  ill,  as  she  did  last  year — her  daughter  is  constantly 
off  and  on  with  fever — where  should  we  be  ?  In  a  laughable  dilemma, 
I  should  say ;  for  I  don't  think  that  Mr.  Beutel  could  cook ;  and  I 
am  sure  that  /can't !  I  forget — "can't"  is  not  a  Missionary  word  ! 
But  I  really  don't  see  what  I  could  do,  except  boil  eggs  ;  we  have 
plenty  of  them.  You  know  that  Fairy  Frisket  did  not  fancy  a 
kitchen  ! 

'  We  have  bread  brought  in  regularly  ;  for  I  did  not  think  the 
heavy,  soHd  German  home-made  bread  suitable  for  India.  The 
bread  we  get  is  so  beautifully  light.  I  do  not  know  exactly  where  it 
comes  from, — I  fancy  from  Gurdaspur  or  Amritsar.  I  am  not 
housekeeper. 

'  What  a  greedy  letter  this  seems  !  so  much  about  eatables  !  But 
it  may  help  you  to  picture  to  yourself  life  at  Batala.  I  am  very 
happy  here.' 

The  end  of  May  found  her  back  again  in  Amritsar,  but 
by  no  means  downhearted.  The  fresh  check  was  evidently 
regarded  by  Miss  Tucker  as  only  temporary. 

^  May  30. — It  does  my  heart  good  to  see  Emily  walking  off  to  her 
work,  perhaps  at  6  A.M.,  so  brave  and  bright,  with  firm,  elastic 
tread.  .  .  .  Sweet  Margaret  has  been  very  unwell.  She  looks  too 
much  like  the  statue  of  an  angel  in  white  marble.  But  she  is  better 
again  ;  and  if  we  can  coax  her  back  to  her  old  quarters  here,  and  pet 
her  to  any  extent — her  medicine — I  think  that  she  may  weather  the 
hot  weather  well. 

'  As  I  have  little  need  of  a  separate  kahar  here,  I  was  advised  to 
part  with  V.  I  tried  to  do  so,  but  I  really  could  not.  The  poor 
fellow  pleaded, — it  was  so  hard  to  get  work, — and  I  remember  how 
miserable  he  looked  when  out  of  situation  before.  Then  he  is  a 
married  man,  and  such  an  intelligent,  faithful  creature.^  So  I  gave 
in  !  It  seems  to  me  very  hard  to  cast  off  good  servants,  just  because 
the  perpetual  changing  about  makes  one  rather  a  supernumerary. 
1  This,  unhappily,  proved  later  to  be  a  mistaken  estimate. 


264  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

V.  is  invaluable  to  me  at  Batala ;  and  I  hope  to  return  to  Batala. 
I  was  rather  pleased  at  C.'s  pleading  for  his  companion.  He  seemed 
quite  eloquent ;  but  I  confess  that  I  did  not  understand  much 
of  his  eloquence  ;  only  he  evidently  did  not  want  poor  V.  to  be  cut 
adrift.  I  would  at  any  time,  if  troubles  arose,  trust  my  life  either  to 
C.  or  V.  I  get  quite  interested  in  some  of  the  servants,  and  they  seem 
to  be  really  affectionate.     They  are  much  like  children.' 

'Amritsar,  June  ii,  1877.— Emily  said  quietly  to  me  yesterday, 
"You  certainly  have  wonderful  health."  Not  that  I  was  well  during 
my  last  trying  time  at  Batala ;  but  I  have  surprised  my  friends  by 
getting  all  right  again  so  very  rapidly.  The  heat  is  very  moderate  as 
yet.  I  have  only  once  this  year  had  the  thermometer  in  my  sleeping 
room  up  to  90".     It  seldom  rises  above  85°  or  86°,  which  is  nothing.' 

'■June  22. — The  banyan-tree  has  dropped  its  brown  leaves  at  last. 
Fancy  a  tree  waiting  till  May  or  June  before  it  will  put  off  its  old 
dress !  It  waits  till  all  its  new  leaves  are  well  out  ;  and  in  mid- 
summer throws  off  the  withered  ones.  It  is  a  grand  tree ;  the  one 
here  is  a  fine  one,  but  not  to  be  compared  to  the  one  at  Batala. 

*The  quite  new  school  at  Batala,  the  first  Boys'  School  in  which 
Christianity  is  taught,  has  already  risen  to  175  pupils.  The  house  is 
too  small,  and  I.  D.^  is  going  to  give  up  his  for  it,  and  take  another. 
The  religious  instruction  has  been  given  by  three  natives.' 

''June  30. — Dear  Emily  is  done  up.  She  actually  asked  me  for  an 
amusing  book,  feeling  evidently  fit  for  little  but  to  lie  on  the  sofa  and 
read.  She  overworks,  and  the  season  tells  on  her.  When  dear  Leila 
happens  to  be  writing  to  Bella  Frances,  would  she  kindly  ask  her  to 
send  me  by  post  "  Fairy  Know-a-bit,"  and  "  Fairy  Frisket,"  and 
"  Pride  and  his  Prisoners,"  my  funniest  tales.  We  have  three  trying 
months  at  least  to  come  ;  and  I  want  to  keep  my  ladies  as  cheerful 
as  I  can.  They  have  not  much  time  for  reading,  except  when  poorly, 
and  then  a  laugh  is  medicine.' 

''July  2. — The  work  is  going  on  at  Batala,  love,  though  we  are 
absent.  The  Bible-woman,  lately  sent,  who  was  here  to-day,  has 
access  into  nearly  double  the  number  of  zenanas  that  Florrie  and  I 
had.  There  is  also  daily  bazaar-preaching ;  and  I.  D.  tells  me 
that  he  has  great  hopes  from  the  new  Batala  Boys'  School,  where 
the  little  lads  listen  readily  to  daily  religious  instruction.  The 
women,  I  hear,  want  me  back  ;  but  I  do  not  see  my  way  to  returning 

1  The  Catechist. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  265 

till  the  rains  are  over.     It  would  not  do  to  dwell  in  a  house  which 
might  be  surrounded  by  water.' 

"•July  14.— It  was  so  nice  last  Wednesday  welcoming  my  dharm- 
nephew  ^  back  to  Amritsar.  Dharm  is  a  good  word  to  distinguish  my 
Missionary  relatives  from  my  relatives  by  birth.  A  Godmother  is  a 
Dharm-m?^.  The  Natives  themselves  have  put  me  up  to  adopting  the 
distinction.  One  of  them  asked  Emily  after  me  as  her  "  dharm-poti, ' 
(religion-aunt).  My  dharm-nephew  was  only  two  days  in  Amritsar  ; 
he  is  off  to  Dhamsala,  to  be  out  of  the  heat  of  the  plains.  He  looked 
better  than  I  had  hoped  to  see  him,  and  just  his  own  bright  self 

TO 

'July  20,  1877. 

'  Mr.  Clark  told  us  the  other  evening  that  he  had  had  an  hour's 
interview  with  a  Brahmin,  who  has  come  from  beyond  Benares. 
This  man's  views  remind  one  of  the  Brahmo  Somaj ;  but  God  grant 
that  this  Hindu  may  find  more  light  than  those  Hindu  Unitarians 
ever  found.  He  is  a  man  of  great  courage  ;  he  has  flung  aside  the 
prejudices  of  his  caste  ;  he  vehemently  opposes  idol-worship,  and 
will  readily  eat  with  Christians.  One  of  his  special  difficulties  in 
regard  to  our  faith  is,  I  believe,  the  difficulty  of  reconciling  God's 
justice  with  the  punishment  of  the  Innocent.  The  Brahmin  is  a 
gifted,  eloquent  man,  and  many  go  to  hear  him. 

'  Margaret  and  I  were  taking  a  moonlight  drive  after  the  heat  of 
the  day,  with  lightning  flickering  in  the  sky,  when  we  passed  a  house 
in  which  I  knew  that  the  Brahmin  has  taken  up  his  abode.  It  is 
some  little  way  out  of  the  city,  and  is  a  European  bungalow.  I 
pointed  out  to  Margaret  a  little  crowd  in  the  compound,  in  the 
picturesque  white  Oriental  costume,  and  told  her  that  it  was  formed 
of  those  who  were  listening  to  the  preacher. 

'  Margaret  stopped  the  carriage,  and  we  tried  to  catch  the  words 
which  could  reach  us  at  the  distance.  They  were,  however,  few  ;  so 
we  got  out  of  the  carriage,  and  without  going  near  the  crowd  drew  a 
little  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  place  where  the  Brahmin  was  address- 
ing his  audience.  We  were  still  too  far  off  to  hear  much,  and  there 
was  too  much  of  Hindi  mixed  with  his  Urdu  to  make  his  language 
clear ;  but  we  could  see  the  man's  eloquent,  animated  gestures,  and 
hear  the  rich  tones  of  his  voice. 

'  It  was  a  very  picturesque  scene  ;  the  mingled  torchlight,  moon- 
light, and  heat-lightning, — the  quaint,  white-robed  crowd, — the  man 

1  The  Rev.  Rowland  Bateman,  just  recovered  from  severe  illness. 


266   LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

who  has  dared  to  break  through  so  much,  who  calls  himself  a  Luther, 
telling  idolaters  of  the  folly  of  idol-worship.  I  should  think  that 
it  would  be  wise  to  place  in  communication  with  this  remarkable 
man  some  of  our  most  talented  converts  from  Hinduism — not 
Muhammadanism.' 

TO   MRS.   HAMILTON. 

^  Aug.  II,  1877.— I  missed  a  grand  opportunity  the  other  day  of 
killing  a  centipede.  It  lay  so  quiet,  as  if  to  invite  me  to  make  my- 
self illustrious.  But  I  hate  crunching  creatures,  so  called  out  for 
some  one  to  kill  my  centipede.  ...  It  is  not  fear  of  being  bitten, 
but  dislike  of  killing.  The  ladies  think  that  it  would  not  do  for 
me  to  keep  house,  for  that  I  should  spoil  the  servants.  I  did  give 
C.  a  decided  rebuke  the  other  day  for  beating  his  wife.  He  pro- 
mised me  to  be  kind  in  future.' 

''Aug.  13. — I  have  this  morning  received  my  precious  Laura's 
letter,  with  a  request  for  a  certain  prayer— which  I  shall  certainly 
remember.  If  a  feeling  of  fear  comes  over  my  Laura,  it  must  surely 
be  as  regards  the  act  of  .departure,  not  what  follows  ;  for  there  is 
"  no  condemnation  "  to  Christ's  people,  no  death  in  the  real  sense  of 
the  word. 

'  But  why,  love,  should  we  fear  the  act  of  departing?  How  many, 
many,  pass  Jordan,  as  it  were,  dry-shod  .^  Remember  how  peacefully 
sweet  Fanny  sank  to  rest, — dearest  Mother, — how  my  Letitia's  face 
was  lighted  up  with  a  smile, — how  our  Bible-woman  at  Batala  sang 
aloud  a  happy  hymn  within  a  few  hours  of  her  going  !  To  me  it 
seems  such  a  simple  thing  for  the — I  had  almost  said  imprisoned 
soul,  to  leave  its  "  cottage  of  clay," — for  the  bird,  as  soon  as  fledged, 
to  spread  its  wings  !  We  are  winged  creatures,  and  it  seems  a 
humiliation  to  be  creeping  on  earth  so  long.  Only  think  what  the 
first  sight  of  the  Lord  will  be !  I  am  not  sure  whether  some 
departing  ones  do  not  see  Him  before  the  last  breath  is  drawn.' 


CHAPTER    VI 

A.D.    1877-1878 
A   BROWN   AND   WHITE   'HAPPY   FAMILY' 

Though  Miss  Tucker  had  by  no  means  fallen  in  love 
with  Dalhousie  during  her  former  visit  to  the  Hills,  she 
was  again  this  August  to  be,  as  she  said,  '  almost  trapped ' 
into  going  there.  Mrs.  Elmslie,  albeit  in  need  of  rest, 
could  not  leave  a  child  in  the  Orphanage  who  was 
dangerously  ill,  perhaps  dying  ;  and  Miss  Wauton,  worn 
out  with  heavy  toil  through  the  very  hot  weather,  impera- 
tively needed  change,  yet  was  in  no  condition  to  manage 
the  long  distance  alone.  Miss  Tucker  therefore  resolved 
to  go  with  her ;  and  the  two  started  off  in  company,  Miss 
Tucker  in  her  duli.  Miss  Wauton  on  a  pony.  They 
travelled  slowly,  with  frequent  rests  by  the  way,  so  as  to 
extend  the  usual  two  days'  hard  journeying  into  six  days 
of  easy  advance.  On  August  22,  before  leaving  Amritsar, 
Miss  Tucker  wrote  : — 

'Man  has  been  described  as  a  "laughing  animal,"  "a  cooking 
animal,"  to  distinguish  him  from  the  lower  creation.  I  would  suggest 
"a  packing  animal,"  for  neither  birds  nor  beasts — except  the 
elephant — have  anything  to  do  with  filling  trunks !  What  an  amount 
of  packing  I  have  had  in  the  last  two  and  a  half  years  !  Of  course, 
these  thoughts  are  suggested  by  my  present  business  of  packing  for 
the  Hills. 

'  One  must  be  prepared  for  all  sorts  of  weather,  for  burning  heat, 
bitter  cold,  or  furious  rain.  One  may  have  all  three  in  the  course  of 
a  week.     Then  one  must  prepare — as  for  an  attack  of  cavalry — for  a 

267 


268  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

dinner-invitation  from  the  Commissioner's  wife.  One  is  pretty  certain 
that  one  will  meet  some  worldly  folk,  who  are  inclined  to  think 
Natives  "  niggers,"  Converts  hypocrites,  and  Missionaries  half-rogues 
and  half-fools  ;  so  that  one  must  not  "  appear  as  a  scrub."  I  do 
not  wonder  that  the  weary  Emily  wants  to  keep  in  the  jungle  as 
long  as  she  can.  Ah  !  if  we  could  but  keep  in  the  jungle  all  the 
time,  I  need  not  pack  up  my  "Conference  Cream," ^  nor  my  faithful 
moire  antique.  There  would  be  some  fun  in  meeting  with  a  cheetah 
or  a  hyena, — I  should  not  like  a  bear  unless  there  were  a  kud^ 
between  us, — but  I  shrink  from  the  world  and  his  wife.  However, 
Missionaries,  like  sailors,  are  bound  for  all  weathers.  .  .  . 

'  If  it  won't  shock  dear  — ~,  I  think  that  I  must  give  you  a  laugh 
over  a  funny  little  story,  which  was  told  me  the  other  day  as  a  true 
one.  A  very  attractive  Scotch  clergyman  was  teased  in  the  same 
way  that  the  Energetic  used  to  be.  At  last  a — one  can't  call  her 
lady^  actually  wrote  to  offer  him  "her  purse,  her  hand,  and  her 
heart."  The  cream  of  the  story  is  the  clergyman's  reply.  He  wrote 
to  his  silly  sheep  :  "  I  advise  you  to  give  your  heart  to  God,  your 
purse  to  the  poor,  and  your  hand  to  him  who  asks  for  it."  Was  it 
not  clever .?  I  hope  that  the  lady  profited  by  the  pastoral  rebuke, 
though  she  can  hardly  have  enjoyed  it.  .  .  . 

'Thanks  for  the  paper  about  the  Telephone.  But  I  hope  that 
we  may  not  hear  our  Queen's  voice  by  it,  if  it  is  to  sound  like  a 
trombone.' 

From  Dinaira,  a  place  some  twenty-two  miles  short  of 
Dalhousie,  she  wrote  : — 

'  There  is  something  more  soothing  to  the  eye  in  the  softly  wooded 
mountains  in  which  we  are  now  cradled,  than  in  the  cold,  stern  white 
peaks,  seen  higher  up.  The  great  want  is  water.  One  sees  the  rough, 
almost  precipitous,  channels  of  mountain  torrents,  but  there  is  not  a 
drop  trickling  in  them.  The  land  suffers  sorely  from  drought.  The 
early  crops  were  partly  spoilt  by  furious  storms,  the  second  crops  are 
threatened  with  destruction  by  the  failure  of  the  rains.  A  peasant 
saw  me  yesterday  very  slowly  getting  down  rather  a  rough  bit,  and 
with  kindly  courtesy  came  and  offered  me  the  help  of  his  brown 
hand.  He  almost  immediately  afterwards  began  to  speak  of  the 
want  of  rain ;  it  is  the  uppermost  thought  amongst  the  poor,  dear 
people.  .  .  . 

'  I  feel  that  I  was  rather  ungrateful  last  year  about  Dalhousie. 

1  Cream-coloured  dress  worn  at  a  Conference.  2  Precipice  or  ravine. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  269 

Though  I  do  not  like  the  place  much,  it  is  a  very  great  blessing  to 
have  it.' 

'  Dalhousie,  Sept.  3,  1877. — This  ought  to  be  a  good  day  for  letter- 
writing;  for  it  is  like  an  exaggerated  November  day  in  England  :  rain 
more  violent ;  wind  more  furious. ...  I  amuse  our  ladies  by  my  indigna- 
tion at  one  of  our  best  hands,  Miss  H.  of  J ,  deserting  us  for  matri- 
mony. Merrily  laughed  the  bonny  blue-bell  at  my  proposition  that, 
in  addition  to  the  fine  of  ^100  imposed  on  Mission  Miss  Sahibas  who 
marry  within  three  years  of  coming  out,  it  should  be  part  of  the 
contract  that  they  should  have  all  their  hair  shaved  off  on  the  day 
before  the  wedding.  Don't  you  approve,  dear  ?  In  the  Strathclyde, 
beside  MisS  F.  and  myself,  there  were  four  Mission  Miss  Sahibas 
going  out  for  the  first  time.  One  of  the  four  has  gone  home, 
invalided ;  two  have  married  ;  only  my  noble  Miss  G.  remains  in 
the  field !  It  is  a  great  deal  worse  when  experienced  Missionaries 
marry  ;  we  do  not  know  how  to  supply  their  places.  .  .  . 

'  You  must  not  fancy  that  we  have  always  weather  like  this  in  the 
hills.  When  we  first  arrived,  and  for  days  afterwards,  the  weather 
was  lovely,  July  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  October  at  night.  The 
scenery  was  glorious.  I  hope,  however,  that  I  may  get  back  next 
week.     I  intend  to  travel  rapidly,  as  I  travel  alone.' 

A  few  days  afterwards  saw  Miss  Tucker  back  in 
Amritsar ;  and  later  in  the  same  month  she  went  all  the 
long  journey  to  Murree,  giving  herself  only  six  days  of 
absence,  to  be  present  at  the  wedding  of  her  nephew, 
Louis  Tucker.  Thence  she  again  returned  to  Amritsar. 
Exciting  events  had  happened  at  Amritsar  during  even 
that  absence,  in  the  shape  of  fresh  Baptisms  and  fresh 
persecutions.  In  October  she  was  once  more  off  on  a 
short  itinerating  tour  through  villages.  A  letter  written 
on  the  first  of  October  refers  to  the  Batala  work,  of  which 
her  heart  was  full. 

'  Mr.  Beutel  told  me  with  regret  that  Mr.  Baring,  on  account  of  low 
funds,  had  desired  him  on  Nov.  1st  to  stop  two  village-schools  near 
Batala,  in  which  50  or  60  boys  are  receiving  instruction.  I  had  my 
Laura's  ^5 — grown  to  ^5,  los. — half  of  her  handsome  gift,  of  which 
Margaret  has  the  other  half.  This  will  keep  the  village  schools 
going  till  April ;  and  by  that  time,  please  God,  others  may  send 
help.  .  ,  .  People  do  not  seem  to  care  for  village  schools.     Govern- 


270  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

ment  does  not.     And  the  people — our  dear  Natives — are  so  anxious 
to  have  them.    The  nicest  boys  seem  the  village  ones.' 

An  undated  letter  belongs,  probably,  to  about  this  time. 

'  I  think  I  mentioned  to  you  that  a  troop  of  guests  invaded  my 
poor  Margaret  almost  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  3  A.M.  She  had 
too  much  bustle,  too  much  discomfort.  She  fell  ill,  as  was  almost  to 
be  expected  ;  but  I  left  her  up  again,  and  going  to  work.  When  she 
was  lying  on  her  sick-bed, — lovely  she  looked,  with  her  soft  pink 
cheeks,  and  her  long  golden  hair  hanging  loose, — I  went  and  had  a 
chat  with  her.  She  has  had  too  few  chats  with  those  whom  she 
loves  since  going  to  live  at  the  Orphanage.  .  .  .  Says  Margaret, 
"  What  caps  are  you  going  to  take  to  your  nephew's  ?  "  "  Oh,  killing 
caps,"  said  I.  Perhaps  they  would  look  killing  if  Margaret  wore 
them  !  She  would  not  believe  me, — her  playful  banter,  her  arch 
smile,  so  reminded  me  of  my  Laura  !  Margaret  went  on  exactly  as 
you  would  have  done.  She  was  certain  that  my  velvet  cap  must 
want  a  new  ruche  ;  would  I  send  over  a  whole  set  of  caps  for  her  to 
improve?  It  would  amuse  her,  she  said.  The  Doctor  came  in, 
when  I  was  having  one  of  my  playful  chats  with  Margaret ;  and  he 
highly  approved  of  my  giving  her  a  little  laugh.  .  .  .  She  called  me 
"sparkling  champagne."  There  is  a  fine  name  for  a  Missionary 
Miss  Sahiba  !  Fancy  my  discovering  one  day  that,  in  her  crowded 
little  dwelling,  she  had  so  emptied  herself  of  needful  comforts,  that 
she  had  not  so  much  as  a  basin  to  wash  in.  If  she  wished  to  wash 
her  hands,  she  must  stoop  or  kneel  to  perform  the  ablution  in  her 
bath  !  Off  went  I  to  the  city,  and  procured  a  toilette-set  for  our 
house  in  Batala,  which  Margaret  has  the  use  of  till  we  go, — when  I 
hope  that  she  will  return  to  the  Bungalow.' 

The  above  must  have  been  written  before  her  visit  to 
Murree,  already  mentioned.  By  the  middle  of  October  she 
was  on  the  point  of  again  starting  for  Batala ;  and  she 
wrote  cheerily  beforehand,  on  the  15  th  : — 

'  Many,  many  thanks  to  my  own  sweet  Laura  for  the  pretty  sketch 
of  what  was  once  to  me  a  very  happy  home.  I  am  so  pleased  that 
your  hand  has  not  lost  its  skill.  I  am  in  great  hopes  that,  like 
myself,  you  may  have  renewed  vigour  as  you  walk  down  the  incline 
of  life's  hill.  My  companions  here  wonder  at  me.  In  another  month 
I  shall  have  been  two  years  in  India, — only  two  months,  journeys 
included,  spent  in  the  Hills ;   all  the  remaining  twenty-two  in  the 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  271 

Plains,  with  one  peculiarly  unhealthy  season,  and  another  of 
unusually  prolonged  heat ; — and  yet  I  am  just  as  strong  and  well 
as  if  I  had  been  just  sauntering  about  an  English  garden  all  the 
time.  .  .  . 

'  I  am  considered  to  have  a  wonderful  constitution ;  and  as  my 
Laura  is  my  own  sister,  I  always  hope  that  she  has  one  also.  .  .  . 

'Take  no  fears  about  Batala.  Fear  is  another  thing  with  which 
Missionaries  should  have  nothing  to  do.  It  seems  to  me  that  English 
folk  in  India  rather  change  in  character.  I  never  imagined  the 
effect  of  being  in  a  land  like  this,  where  you  belong  to  a  conquering 
race.  I  must  not  just  say  that  no  one  seems  afraid  of  anything,  for 
that  would  be  an  exaggeration  ;  but  physical  courage  seems  to  come 
quite  naturally.  Those  who  might  be  timid  girls  in  England  fear- 
lessly travel  at  night,  quite  alone — save  for  the  company  of  wild- 
looking  natives, — through  lonely  mountain-passes,  perhaps  through 
lightning  and  storm,  with  the  possibility  of  meeting  cheetahs,  bears, 
and  snakes.  I  feel  no  more  afraid  of  being  at  Batala,  with  or 
without  Mr.  Beutel,  than  you  would  of  sleeping  in  a  London  hotel.' 

FROM   MRS.    ELMSLIE  TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

'  Oct.  18,  1877. 

'  I  have  just  returned  from  seeing  our  darling  off  to  Batala.  I 
know  you  will  be  sorry  to  hear  she  has  gone  there  again  ;  and  Miss 
Wauton,  Mr.  Clark,  and  I  have  tried  hard  to  prevent  it, — in  vain  ! 
She  thinks  it  her  duty  to  go,  and  she  makes  it  her  pleasure.  How 
we  miss  her  here,  I  cannot  tell  you.  She  is  beloved  and  honoured  by 
rich  and  poor,  young  and  old.  She  is  our  Sunshine.  Her  bright 
fancies,  her  quick  perceptions,  her  wise  suggestions,  are  invaluable 
to  all  of  us  in  the  Mission. 

'While  she  frets  over  her  want  of  power  in  speaking  Urdu  and 
Panjabi,  we  are  rejoicing,  not  only  in  her  power  of  writing  for  the 
people,  but  in  her  wonderful  perception  of  the  national  character,  her 
insight  into  the  weaknesses  and  also  into  the  virtues  of  our  Native 
friends,  Christian  and  heathen.  Her  loving,  unselfish  ways  are 
wonderfully  soothing  and  sustaining  ;  and  life  has  seemed  to  me 
a  different  thing  since  God  brought  her  to  us. 

'  She  has  been  wonderfully  free  of  fever  during  the  past  year  ;  and 
the  excitability  which  used  to  make  me  anxious  has  quite  passed 
away.  I  think  she  has  been  looking  quite  lovely  of  late ;  the 
expression  of  her  dear  face  has  been  so  restful,  so  sweet,  so  angel-like. 
She  has  been  a  little  less  thin  too,  and  has  been  wearing  more 


272  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

becoming  caps  and  bonnets.  We  find  it  necessary  to  look  after  her 
in  such  sublunary  things  ;  and  many  a  laugh  she  has  at  our  anxiety 
about  her  appearance.  You  asked  me  to  tell  you  of  anything 
she  ever  needs  ;  and  I  think  you  may  like  to  know  that  she  has 
no  intermediate  dress  for  everyday  use  ;  nothing  between  the  dark 
green  cashmere  and  a  very  pale  kind  of  Chinese  silk. 

'A  light  material  of  a  rather  dark  grey  colour,  nicely  made  up  with 
a  tunic  bodice  and  belt,  would  be  very  useful  to  her.  But  what 
would  she  say  to  me,  if  she  thought  I  had  written  this  ?  Another 
thing  is  a  feather  pillow.  Such  a  thing  is  not  to  be  had  in  India  ; 
and  her  dear  head  is,  I  am  sure,  often  tired.  We  put  our  only  one  into 
her  gari  just  now,  hoping  she  would  not  notice  it.  Off  went  her 
coach,  and  we  were  so  pleased  to  think  it  was  with  her,  but  she  found 
it  out  before  reaching  the  end  of  the  Avenue,  and  sent  it  back.  If 
you  could  send  one  with  a  coloured  cover,  it  could  do  either  on  bed 
or  sofa ;  and  I  think  it  might  be  well  to  put  her  name  on  it  in 
indelible  ink,  for  she  is  so  very  likely  to  give  away  such  a  desirable 
thing.  .  .  .' 

C.   M.   T.   TO  MRS.   E . 

'Batala,  Nov.  15,  1877. 

'Where  do  you  think  the  gay  Mission  Miss  Sahiba  has  been 
to-day  ?  Never  consider  mine  a  monotonous  life  !  Why,  I  have 
been  to  a  fair,  a  mela^  as  they  call  it  here.  I  had  never  thought  of  a 
lady's  going  to  a  heathen  fair  ;  but  two  of  our  Mission  ladies  are  here 
for  ten  days,  to  conduct  examinations  in  the  schools.  Our  valuable 
Miss  Wauton  said  that  she  would  like  to  go  to  the  mela.  Of  course, 
I  would  not  let  her  go  without  a  lady  companion  ;  so  we  both 
accompanied  Mr.  Beutel  in  his  light  covered  cart,  plunging  over  ruts 
in  the  kachcha  road  in  fine  style. 

'  It  was  a  pretty  sight.  The  weather  was  delicious.  Numbers  of 
people  in  their  picturesque  costumes  were  threading  their  way  to  the 

village  of  A ,  white  being  the  prevailing  colour  of  the  men's 

costumes,  gay  red  that  of  the  women's,  with  a  fair  sprinkling  of  green, 
a  touch  of  yellow  and  blue,  and  here  and  there  a  grand  display 
of  glittering  gold.  But  we  did  not  go  just  to  look  at  the  folk,  or  to 
buy  fairings  either.  Emily  and  I  went  armed  with  books  and  pictures, 
to  try  and  sow  a  little  good  seed  amongst  the  women,  whilst  Mr. 
Beutel  and  the  two  Catechists  preached  to  the  men. 

'  Mr.  Beutel  found  a  shady  place  for  us,  and  Emily  and  I  tried  to 
gather  women  around  us.  The  men  were  curious,  and  wanted  to  see 
and  hear  also.    We  could  not  secure  an  exclusively  feminine  audience. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  273 

It  was  a  Hindu  mela ;  and  not  many  Muhammadans  seemed  to  be 
present,  which  made  matters  easier  for  us.  .  .  .  No  one  objected  to 
hearing  as  much  about  the  Blessed  Saviour  as  we  could  tell  them. 
Emily  speaks  Punjabi  famously  ;  I  have  only  about  a  thimble-full  of 
it ;  so  I  chiefly  listened  to  Emily,  and  held  the  umbrella  to  shield  her 
from  the  sun. 

'  It  was  interesting  to  look  at  the  faces,  when  Emily,  with  admirable 
fluency,  told  the  story  of  the  Prodigal  Son. "  At  this  time  her  audience 
seemed  to  be  principally  Sikh  men.  They  crouched  upon  the  ground 
around  us,  and  listened  with  hearty  interest.  Nowhere,  either  from 
men  or  women,  did  we  meet  with  any  rudeness ;  nor  did  any  one 
seem  vexed  with  our  describing  what  our  Lord  had  done  for  us.  .  .  . 

'  The  way  in  which  Batala  is  opening  out  is  marvellous.  I  go  from 
Zenana  to  Zenana,  and  have  not  by  any  means  finished  paying  all  my 
first  visits  !  !  Our  Bible-woman  thinks  that  about  thirty  Zenanas  are 
open  to  her.  I  doubt  that  nearly  so  many  are  open  in  the  large 
mother-stations  of  Amritsar  or  Lahore.  We  ought  to  have  two  or 
three  clever,  active,  strong  Miss  Sahibas  here,  instead  of  one  elderly 
lady,  who  is  slow  at  both  learning  and  teaching. 

*  The  two  ladies  from  Amritsar  are  delighted  with  Batala.  To-day 
is,  I  think,  the  anniversary  of  my  arrival  in  India  ;  so  I  have  entered 
upon  my  third  year  !  My  Missionary  life  has,  on  the  whole,  been  a 
very  happy  one.  .  .  .' 

TO   MRS.   HAMILTON. 

''Dec.  13,  1877. — The  overland  mail  was  particularly  long  in  arriving 
this  time.  I  hoped  that  it  would  bring  me  something  particularly 
nice  ;  and  what  should  come  to-day  but  your  dear  loving  letter,  and 
the  first  halves  of  your  munificent  contribution  to  our  schools  !  How 
very  kind  and  liberal  my  Laura  is  !  I  had  been  speaking  to  Mr. 
Beutel  but  yesterday  of  those  two  village  schools,  which  would — from 
the  lowness  of  funds — have  been  dropped,  but  for  your  last  handsome 
gift.  I  was  asking  Mr.  Beutel  how  far  your  Rs.55  would  carry  them 
on.  He  replied — till  past  the  beginning  of  March.  Beyond  that 
there  was  no  provision  for  them  at  all. 

'  How  delighted  Mr.  Beutel  will  be,  on  his  return  from  Amritsar,  to 
hear  that  a  bountiful  supply  has  come  in  !  I  think  it  better  to  apply 
your  gift  to  the  village  schools,  than  to  the  girls'  schools  in  Batala. 
The  latter,  I  think,  excite  more  interest,  and  are  not  so  likely  to  be  in 
want  of  funds.  These  poor  village  schools — since  for  retrenchment 
sake  they  were  cast  off— are  like  waifs  and  strays.  Government  does 
not  care  for  village  schools  ;  the  School  Society  cannot  afford  to 
S 


274  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

keep  up  half  the  desirable  number.  Mr.  Beutel  often  receives 
applications  for  new  village  schools,  and  is  so  much  interested  in 
them  that  he  and  our  Catechist  have  one  between  them.  .  .  . 

'  We  are  to  have  a  grand  tamasha  here  at  Christmas-time.  Mr. 
Beutel  is  going  to  gather,  not  only  the  boys  of  our  Batala  Mission 
School,  but  boys  from  village  schools.  Of  course,  this  is  not  merely  to 
give  enjoyment,  though  the  enjoyment  will  probably  be  great,  but  to 
bring  more  forcibly  before  the  lads  the  tidings  of  great  gladness. 
We  are  a  little  puzzled  about  the  poor  little  girls  ;  as  their  cruel  and 
absurd  pardah  rules  prevent  the  possibility  of  gathering  them  all 
together,  even  in  the  Bible-woman's  house.' 

The  beginning  of  1878  found  Miss  Tucker  at  Batala; 
and  though  once  more  for  a  short  time  her  work  there  was 
to  be  broken  through,  the  spring  of  this  same  year,  as 
explained  earlier,  would  see  an  end  of  the  difficulty  which 
had  attended  her  permanent  residence  in  the  place.  The 
letter  to  her  sister,  written  on  January  5th,  is  all  through 
a  particularly  characteristic  one.  A  large  amount  will 
bear  quotation. 

'  The  warm  dress  which  you  have  so  very  kindly  procured  for  me 
has  not  yet  arrived  ;  but  I  should  not  wonder  if  it  were  here  on 
Monday  or  Tuesday.  .  .  .  We  have  been  guessing  of  what  colour  it 
will  be.  Mrs.  J.  and  I  both  fixed  upon  grey,  Mrs.  Beutel  purple, 
and  Mr.  Beutel  brown.  Perhaps  after  all  it  will  turn  out  to  be  blue. 
I  hope  that  I  may  have  it  in  time  to  wear  at  B.'s  baptism,  which 
I  do  hope  may  take  place  to-morrow  week,  if  some  clergyman  will 
only  come  from  Amritsar.  To  this  baptism  I  look  forward  with 
joyful  interest.  B.'s  white  dress  is  probably  ready  now.  We  like 
converts  to  wear  pure  white  at  baptism.  I  intend  to  give  J.,  the 
Bible-woman,  a  new  skirt  to  wear  on  the  occasion  ;  and  I  should 
like  to  wear  something  perfectly  fresh  too.  .  .  . 

'  I  was  in  a  Zenana  to-day,  which  it  is  always  a  mental  effort  to 
visit ;  but  it  is  very  interesting.  Instead  of  talking  to  the  women  there, 
I  am  certain  to  have  one  or  two  men,  descendants  of  the  famous 
Guru  Nanak,  who  engross  the  conversation  with  me  almost  entirely. 

'  The  religion  of  the  fine  old  fellow  who  is  the  principal  talker  is  a 
regular  puzzle.  He  talks  Panjabi  ;  so  you  may  imagine  how  very 
difficult  it  is  for  me  to  understand  him ;  and  he  wants  to  make  me 
understand.     I  do  my  best  to  do  so.     This  is  what  I  gather  of  his 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  275 

views.  S.  is  not  a  Muhammadan  ;  he  says  that  he  is  a  Hindu  ; 
though  by  his  birth  he  ought  to  be  a  Sikh.  He  reverences  Guru 
Nanak,^  very  properly,  but  thinks  that  Guru  Nanak  has  given  religious 
tenets  such  as  I  am  certain  that  he  never  did.  We  have  no  reason  to 
suppose  that  the  excellent  Guru  had  ever  heard  of  our  Saviour.  But 
S.  propounds  doctrines  that  are  amazing  from  the  lips  of  a  Hindu. 
He  believes  in  the  one  true  God.  He  believes  that  a  time  of  great 
war  and  trouble  will  come  ;  and  that  then  Isa  Masih  (Jesus  Christ) 
will  come  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  become  the  Ishar  (Divine 
Lord)  of  all  the  Earth. 

'  I  had  taken  a  Gurmukhi  Testament  with  me.  Neither  of  the  men 
seemed  disposed  to  read  it.  I  thought  that  perhaps  neither  of  them 
could  \  so  I  opened  it  myself,  and  chose  a  pretty  easy  place.  I  had 
never  read  the  Gurmukhi  character  in  a  Zenana  before.  My  old  Sikh 
— for  I  cannot  help  considering  him  one — listened  very  attentively, 
correcting  my  pronunciation  now  and  then.  I  did  not  venture 
to  read  much.  Then  he  took  the  Testament  himself,  and  began  to 
read  it  in  regular  Sikh  fashion,  in  a  kind  of  measured  chant,  as  if  it 
were  poetry.  It  was  clear  that  he  could  x^^,^  ;  so  I  left  the  precious 
Volume  as  a  loan  in  that  house.     May  God  bless  it !  .  .  .' 

''Jan.  9,  1878. — Hurrah  !  the  box  has  come  !  It  is  in  process 
of  being  opened. 

'Was  I  not  a  real  witch?  Did  I  not  guess  a  grey  dress?  What 
an  elegant,  ladylike,  quiet  costume  !  And  so  warm  and  comfortable  ! 
.  .  .  When  I  opened  my  tempting  box,  I  thought  of  the  dear  fingers 
which  had  been  employed  in  putting  it  up  !  How  very,  very  kind 
you  have  been  !  So  many,  many  thanks  !  And  what  loves  of 
cushions  !  You  have  remembered  my  weakness  for  cushions.  Soft, 
warm,  and  so  pretty  !  .  .  .  I  am  obliged  to  go  to  Amritsar,  just  for  a 
few  days,  as  Mr.  Clark  and  Margaret  cannot  come  here  ;  and  we  must 
have  a  serious,  prayerful  discussion  about  what  is  really  very  impor- 
tant, and  too  complicated  for  letters.  ...  I  see  my  own  path  clearly. 
I  intend,  please  God,  to  stick  by  Batala.  My  friends  will  not  hear 
of  my  staying  alone.  .  .  .  May  God  guide  us  !  Batala  should  NOT 
be  abandoned.' 

''Jan.  23. — I  have  come  back  from  Amritsar,  with  nothing  settled, 
except  that  the  Beutels  are  to  go  to  Amritsar  about  the  middle  of 
March.  The  Batala  affairs  have  been  much  talked  over.  ...  I 
earnestly  hope  that  I  may  not  have  a  third  time  to  retreat  from 
Batala,  for  lack  of  a  companion.  We  are  beating  about  for  one,  but 
1  Founder  of  the  Sikh  religion. 


276  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

it  seems  a  hard  thing  to  find,  we  are  so  undermanned.  Every  one 
seems  to  acknowledge  the  great  importance  of  Batala.  .  .  . 

'  As  for  its  being  unhealthy,  I  regard  it  as  7nore  healthy  than  either 
Amritsar  or  Lahore.  The  tank  is  a  lovely  tank,  with  no  bad  smell ; 
and  when  it  is  very  full  I  can  see  the  current  of  water  flowing  in  on 
one  side  and  out  at  the  other.  Fishes  live  and  jump  about  in  it ;  and 
birds  delight  in  its  bright  waters.  I  have  a  better  chance  of  keeping 
well  through  the  hot  weather  here  than  at  the  bungalow  at  Amritsar. 
This  house  is  far  better  built,  with  thick  walls,  lofty  rooms,  etc.  But 
none  of  my  Missionary  friends  at  Amritsar  will  listen  to  my  staying 
here  alone.  So  I  must  just  wait,  and  see  what  is  God's  Will.  He 
can  send  me  a  companion,  if  He  sees  right  to  do  so.' 

'  Feb.  7. — Perhaps  you  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  all  our  attempts  to 

find  a  companion  for  me  at  Batala  have  failed.     Poor must  go 

back  to  England ;  it  was  a  mistake  ever  to  have  sent  out  so  delicate 

a  lady.     Miss with  whom  I  was  in  treaty,  is  going  home  too. 

Mrs. has  been  secured  for  another  station.  .  .  .  Perhaps  I  have 

been  too  ready  to  say  to  myself,  "  There  is  no  place  on  earth  where 
I  can  be  so  useful  as  at  Batala."  I  must  come  down  a  little,  which  is 
wholesome.  But  I  have  not  any  sense  of  defeat ;  no,  thank  God, — 
every  visit  to  Batala,  it  seems  as  if  fresh  ground  had  been  gained. 
The  waves  retreat  again  and  again,  while  the  tide  is  advancing.  .  .  . 
I  believe  that  a  far  better  spirit,  a  spirit  of  kindness  towards  us, 
a  lessening  of  prejudice,  a  most  encouraging  readiness  to  listen,  is 
now  spreading  in  Batala.^  Maulvi  Z.  felt  the  difference.  B — n 
feels  the  difference.  I  believe  that  there  will  be  real  regret  at 
our  leaving  Batala.  Dear  B— n  !  .  .  .  I  had  brought  for  B — n's 
children  two  gay  little  coverlets.  .  .  .  B — n  took  them  and  wrapped 
them  round  the  plump  little  girls  as  chaddahs.  I  think  that  he  was 
quite  pleased.  .  .  . 

*  Oh,  did  I  tell  you — I  told  somebody — about  my  other  Brahmin  ; 
the  elderly  man  who  prays  by  the  side  of  our  tank  ?  I  have  repeatedly 
spoken  to  him  in  my  indifferent  Panjabi ;  and  I  spoke  to  my  nephew, 
R.  Bateman,  about  him,  when  he  was  here  for  two  days.  So  on  one 
of  the  mornings  I  see  my  nephew  seated  beside  my  Brahmin  close  to 
the  tank,  with  only  a  handkerchief  round  his  delicate  head.  His  old 
Auntie  soon  supplied  him  with  an  umbrella.  R.  Bateman  gave  me 
afterwards  an  account  of  the  Brahmin's  strange  view  of  religion. 

1  Miss  Tucker  in  this  letter  ascribes  the  said  change  to  the  work  of  others ;  but 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  her  own  influence  had  largely  contributed  to  bring  it 
about. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  277 

One  can  hardly  imag.ne  a  mind  in  which  the  whole  visible  creation  is 
regarded  as  God.  The  Brahmin  had  no  idea  of  sin  ;  he  had  never 
seen  it^  he  said, — as  if  it  were  a  thing  like  a  stone  or  a  tree  ! 

'  I  saw  the  poor  fellow  by  the  tank  yesterday  morning,  and  went 
out  and  spoke  to  him.  I  invited  him  to  come  to  morning  prayers. 
Rather  to  my  surprise,  the  dear  man  really  did  come.  He  must  be 
a  wondrously  meek  Brahmin  ;  for  he  seated  himself  on  the  floor 
amongst  the  servants,  labourers,  etc.,  apparently  quite  forgetful  of  the 
tremendous  difference  between  their  castes  and  his  own.  Mr.  Beutel 
makes  morning  family  prayers  almost  like  a  regular  service.  He 
not  only  reads  the  Bible,  but  expounds.  I  had  asked  him,  for  my 
Brahmin's  sake,  to  make  his  address  as  Punjabish  as  possible  ;  so 
he  stuck  in  Punjabi  words  where  he  could.  My  Brahmin  looked 
very  attentive.  He  has  a  sort  of  childlike  readiness  to  listen,  look- 
ing full  at  you  when  you  speak ;  and  his  face  quite  brightening 
as  if  with  pleasure  when  you  talk  of  a  Saviour.  It  must  be  all  so 
strangely  new  to  him  !     I  wonder  if  he  will  come  again.  .  .  . 

'  To-day  I  went  to  two  new  houses, — I  have  such  a  number  to  go 
to  !  When  I  sang  of  the  Saviour's  invitation,  to  a  Hindu,  not  only 
did  she  seem  to  listen  attentively,  but  I  saw  her  wiping  moist  eyes. 

*  Margaret  and  E.  Clay  intend  coming  here  the  day  after  to-morrow 
for  two  days.  ...  I  must  not  dwell  on  parting  with  Margaret.^  I 
rejoice  in  the  happiness  which  I  hope  she  will  enjoy.  She  has 
worked  long  and  very  hard.  ...  No  doubt  there  are  some  wise  and 
merciful  reasons  for  sending  me  away  from  Batala.' 

'  Batala,  Feb.  14. — Another  curious  phase  in  my  strange,  strange 
life  !  I  told  you  or  dear  Leila  of  the  idea  of  the  Boys'  Orphanage 
being  brought  here.  That  idea  was  knocked  on  the  head ;  but 
another  is  taking  such  shape  that  it  is  likely  enough  that  I  shall  find 
myself,  not  exactly  planted  in,  but  on  the  top  of^and  underneath  also 
— a?iother  boys'  school  !  The  Rev.  F.  Baring,  the  Bishop  of  Dur- 
ham's son,  has  fallen  in  love  with  Batala,  and  has  set  his  heart 
on  buying  this  house  from  Government,  for  a  Boarding-school  for 
Christian  Native  Boys. 

*  We  have  no  wish,  however,  to  lose  our  hold  of  our  beautiful  palace 
as  a  station  for  the  Zenana  Mission  ;  so  it  is  likely  that,  if  Mr.  Baring 
succeed  in  buying  Anarkalli,  he  will  allow  our  Mission  to  rent  from 
him,  on  easy  terms,  that  part  of  the  house  which  we  now  occupy  (by 
ive  I  mean  myself),  with  the  addition  of  the  drawing-room  and  part 
at  least  of  the  grand  dining-room.     Dear,  good  Babu  Singha  and  his 

1  Mrs.  Elmslie  was  going  home  on  furlough. 


278  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

wife  and  family  will  probably  live  in  another  part  of  the  palace,  he 
being  Under-Superintendent  of  the  School !  ! 

'  Here's  a  brown  and  white  Happy  Family  for  you  !  Natives  and 
Europeans  can  hardly  chum  together  ;  yet  it  would  be  absurd  to 
have  three  cooks  for  us.  The  present  idea  is  for  Mr.  Baring  and  me 
to  chum,  ////  I  am  joined  by  any  young  lady.  Mr.  Baring  ...  is 
quite  happy  with  me,  because  of  my  venerable  age,  which  I  have 
found  such  an  advantage  in  India.  He  asked  me  to-day  to  have  him 
as  a  nephew  !  How  rich  I  am  in  these  dharm-nephews, — to  say 
nothing  of  the  real  ones  !  Now  I  have  jive  ;  one  of  them  being  my 
Afghan,  and  the  others  four  of  the  most  valuable  clergymen  in  the 
Panjab  Mission.^  Henry,  my  Afghan  boy,^  you  must  know.  He  is 
the  youngest  of  all  my  dharm-nephews. 

'  Now,  what  does  my  sweet  Laura  say  to  my  plans— and  my  family  ? 
I  like  you  to  know  all  my  nephews.  ...  I  have  more  nieces  even 
than  nephews  ;  but  you  have  had  enough  of  my  dharm-family  for 
the  present.  Mr.  Clark  wanted  me  to  take  him  in  too.  If  he  had 
asked  to  be  a  brother^  I  should  have  welcomed  him  ;  but  I  really 
could  not  have  as  a  nephew  one  to  whom  we  look  up  as  a  head- 
pastor,  a  kind  of  bishop  !  I  don't  think  that  my  nephews  should  be 
more  than  forty  years  old.' 

'  Amritsar,  Feb.  23,  1878. — Here  I  am  again  in  dear  old  Amritsar. 
...  I  know  that  you  will  be  curious  to  hear  how  the  Batala  school 
plan  progresses.  Well,  we  are  waiting  to  hear  what  our  saintly  new 
Bishop  says  to  it.  In  a  matter  of  such  importance  it  is  right  to  wait 
for  the  advice  of  such  an  Apostolic  man.  ...  I  wait  passively.  There 
is  plenty  of  work  for  me  at  Amritsar,  more  than  I  can  do  at  all 
properly.  .  .  . 

'You  see,  Laura  dariing,  there  are  quantities  of  Aunts  in  England  ; 
but  an  old  Auntie  is  a  rare  bird  in  India,  and  therefore  in  request.  I 
am  like  a  hen  with  such  a  large  brood  ! 

'  Dearest  Margaret  will  be  much  missed.  Many,  many,  both 
English  and  Natives,  love  her.  .  .  .  The  Native  Christians  have 
quietly  subscribed  for  a  shawl  for  her  Mother,  as  a  token  of  their 
grateful  love.  I  think  the  Natives  very  affectionate.  People  talk  of 
their  being  ungrateful  ;  but  those  who  talk  so  have  perhaps  never 
earned  their  gratitude.  If  you  love  them,  they  love  you  !  They  are 
very  sensitive,  both  to  kindness  and  to  unkindness.  .  .  . ' 

1  Mr.  Bateman,  Mr.  Wade,  Mr.  Weitbrecht,  Mr.  Baring.  .  .  . 

2  Adopted  son  of  the  Rev.  Robert  Clark  ;  afterwards  known  as  Dr.  H,  M. 
Clark.  .  .  . 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  279 

TO  MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

*  March  4,  1878. 

' .  .  .  Missionary  work  can  be  just  as  truly  done  in  England  as  in 
India ;  but  only  a  few  of  the  dear  workers  can — without  forsaking 
other  duties — come  out  so  far  as  the  Panjab.  Those  who  come  here 
should  be  strong  also,  physically  as  well  as  mentally  suited  for  the 
peculiar  work  and  trying  climate.  .  .  . 

'  There  are  plenty  of  poor  in  Amritsar,  as  well  as  Batala.  I  went 
to  Mrs.  Clark's  yesterday,  at  the  large  Mission  House.  In  her 
garden  were  quantities  of  poor  folk  ;  between  three  and  four  hundred, 
counting  children.  A  Catechist  preached  to  them  first  ;  and  then  a 
great  number  of  chapatties,  a  kind  of  thick  flat  cake,  of  very  simple 
make,  with  a  small  quantity  of  dal,^  was  handed  round  and  distri- 
buted. Adults  had  two  chapatties  each ;  children  one.  Mr.  Clark 
had  had  a  Brahmin  to  cook,  for  Hindu  beggars  would  not  otherwise 
have  liked  the  food,  and  Muhammadans  do  not  object  to  a  Brahmin's 
cooking.  Station-people  subscribe  to  help  in  the  distribution  of  this 
food.  .  .  . 

'  Mr.  Clark  and  my  new  nephew,  Mr.  Baring,  have  gone  to  Lahore 
to  see  our  new  Bishop.^  He  is  known  to  be  such  a  saint,  that  thanks- 
givings have  been  offered  again  and  again  for  his  appointment.' 

TO   MRS.   J.    BOSWELL. 

'  March  &,,  1878. 

'  Is  poor,  dear  going  to  remain  in  the  same  house,  so  full  to 

her  of  sad  memories  ?  People  feel  so  differently  on  this  subject. 
Some  cling  to  the  spot  where  they  have  loved  and  sorrowed, — others 
fly  from  it.  I  should  never  like  to  cross  the  threshold  of  No.  3  again. 
I  am  rather  pleased  that  it  has  another  number  now.  There  is  no 
3  Upper  Portland  Place  now.' 

TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

'■March  8. — I  can  fancy  the  request  to  have  my  letters  directed  to 
Batala  has  excited  a  little  curiosity.  It  really  seems  likely  that 
our  comical  arrangement  will  be  carried  out ;  and  that  I  and  my 
nephew  will  find  ourselves  chumming  together  in  the  midst  of  a  Boys' 
School !  ! 

'  The  Panjab  is  eager  to  have  a  boys'  school  for  young  Christian 
Native  gentlemen.     The  Bishop  approves.     Our  boys  are  to  pay 

1  Lentils.  2  Bishop  French. 


28o  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Rs.5  a  month.  This  may  cover  food  expenses,  but  of  course  not  the 
expense  of  first-class  teaching.  Batala  is  to  have  this,  the  nucleus  of 
a  future  Panjabi  Eton  or  Harrow  (if  it  please  God  to  prosper  it),  the 
training- place  for  our  clergymen,  lawyers,  and  merchants.  I  am  not 
to  be  Matron.  I  am  the  sole  representative — European — of  our 
Ladies'  Zenana  Society  ;  but  it  would  be  strange  if  I  lived  in  the  same 
building  with  the  dear  boys,  and  took  no  interest  in  them.  It  is  pro- 
bable enough  that  I  shall  find  myself  playing  at  Oxfordor  Cambridge, 
or  giving  a  music-lesson  to  young  Panjabis.  A  comical  idea  suggests 
itself  I  have  a  large  family  of  new  Nephews  and  Nieces  in  India. 
Am  I  to  have  a  whole  troop  of  brown  Grandnephews  in  perspec- 
tive !  !  !  Don't  fancy  them  ugly  savages.  Many  will  probably  be 
winsome  enough, — bright,  attractive,  and  courteous. 

'  Good  Babu  Singha  and  his  excellent  wife  will  probably  be  in  the 
house,  but  not  chum  with  Europeans.  .  .  . 

'  Only  imagine  my  darling  Laura  dreaming  of  coming  to  Egypt 
to  meet  me  !  !  But  I  doubt  her  being  up  to  such  a  journey  ;  and 
mine  would  be  about  as  formidable  a  one.  But  the  dream  is  one  of 
"  old,"  not  "  young  Love  "  I ' 

'■March  15. — Now,  darling,  to  answer  your  objections  to  my  spend- 
ing the  hot  season  at  Batala.  ...  I  doubt  that  the  risk  to  health 
from  climate  will  be  at  all  greater  at  Batala  than  at  damp  Amritsar. 
Always  remember,  love,  that  at  the  former  place  I  am  high  above 
the  ground,  while  at  the  latter  I  am  on  it.  This  makes  an  immense 
difference.  The  large  inner  room  at  Batala  would  be  cooler  than  any 
room  here.  .  .  . 

'  I  intend  to  take  my  large  harmonium  to  Batala.  It  may  be  of 
immense  use  there.  I  suppose  that  I  shall  have  charge  of  all  the 
music  ;  for  I  do  not  believe  that  either  my  Bhatija  (nephew)  or 
the  Singhas  know  anything  about  it.  It  is  of  itnmense  importance. 
Mr.  R,  told  me  yesterday  that  the  Rev.  C.,  perhaps  the  most 
valuable  convert  in  all  the  Panjab  (he  is  a  Bengali),  was  first  brought 
to  Christ  by  listening  to  Church  music.  It  carried  his  soul  away  ! 
I  wish  that  I  were  more  competent  for  the  charge ;  but  I  must  hope 
and  pray  that  God  may  bless  my  little  attempts  to  serve  Him  by 
music.  I  am  so  thankful  that  age  has  not  affected  my  voice  ;  at  least, 
it  does  not  seem  to  me  to  have  done  so.' 

The  latter  fact  would  tell  little.     People  in  advancing 
years   are   seldom   able   to   judge   of  their  own    voices. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  281 

Others,  however,  speak  of  the  unusual  manner  in  which 
Miss  Tucker's  voice  lasted.  It  had  never  been  one  of 
much  power  or  sweetness ;  but  she  had  always  had  a 
sensitive  ear,  and  had  sung  well  ;  and  to  the  end  she 
still  sang  in  tune,  even  when  the  voice  itself  became 
cracked  with  age. 

One  other  point  in  the  above  may  be  noted.  Miss 
Tucker  was  throughout  anxious  to  make  the  best  of  her 
beloved  Batala ;  and  undoubtedly  this  was  a  case  of 
*  making  the  best.'  If  Amritsar  was  damp,  so  also  must 
Batala  have  been, — at  all  events,  in  the  seasons  of  heavy 
floods,  when  it  was  often  impossible  to  get  about,  from 
the  state  of  the  roads.  There  were  times  when  Anarkalli 
was  all  but  a  veritable  island,  in  the  midst  of  a  kind  of 
lake.  This  could  hardly  be  regarded  as  healthy,  while  it 
lasted. 

TO  Miss  '  LEILA  '   HAMILTON. 

March  28,  1878. 

*  I  am  to  have  my  "  pen,"  about  which  my  dharm-nieces  joke  a 
great  deal.  Mera  Bhatija^  is  going  to  cut  a  slice  off  his  magnificent 
dining-room,  to  make  a  cool  retreat  for  the  Auntie.  As  a  bamboo- 
screen  right  across  would  be  very  unsightly,  if  seen  in  its  bareness,  I 
am  going  to  have  mine  covered  on  both  sides.  Fancy  a  screen, 
twenty  feet  long  and  six  feet  high  !  I  have  been  very  fortunate  in 
securing  a  most  suitable  cloth  for  the  cover.  A  bedroom  chintz 
would  have  looked  quite  out  of  character,  but  I  have  bought  a  native 
clothj  with  an  Oriental  pattern,  very  tapestry-like,  old-fashioned 
conventional  flowers  and  birds  on  a  blue  ground.  It  is  such  a 
pattern  as  one  might  see  in  a  picture,  and  will  not  destroy  the  effect 
of  the  Oriental  hall.  Every  one  who  saw  it  at  once  fixed  upon  it  as 
the  thing.  .  .  . 

'  Emily  has  ordered  eight  chairs  for  my  rooms, — I  had  two  of  my 
own, — and  your  beloved  Mother  knows  that  I  am  splendidly  supplied 
with  cushions ;  such  dainty  cushions  !  I  like  my  rooms  to  look 
rather  nice,  as  young  Panjab  may  get  an  extra  polish,  if  admitted  to 
an  English  lady's  drawing-room.' 

1  '  My  Nephew';  term  constantly  used  by  A.  L.  O.  E.  for  Mr.  Baring. 


CHAPTER   VII 

A.D.    1878 

PERSECUTIONS 

Once  more  Miss  Tucker  settled  down  in  Batala — for  life ! 
She  would  only  leave  the  place  again  for  her  short  and  well- 
earned  holidays ;  and  at  the  last  for  her  passing  away. 

During  many  years  her  home  was  still  to  be  in  the 
quaint  old  palace,  described  by  others  as  draughty,  weird, 
forlorn,  desolate ;  though  she  herself  so  resolutely  looked 
upon  the  discomforts  of  the  old  building  through  rose- 
tinted  glasses.  But  its  dreary  aspect  was  soon  to  be 
changed.  The  bright  faces  of  Panjabi  lads,  the  merry 
voices  of  Panjabi  scholars,  were  to  fill  with  fresh  life  those 
big  and  empty  rooms.  '  The  Baring  High  School,'  as  it 
was  called,  had  its  first  existence  in  the  shape  of  a  small 
boarding-school  at  Amritsar,  which  Mr.  Baring  decided  to 
remove  to  the  palace  at  Batala.  About  fifteen  boys  were, 
in  the  beginning,  at  Anarkalli, — described  by  A.  L.  O.  E. 
as  'our  choicest  young  Natives,  converts  or  descendants 
of  converts ;  one  is  the  grandson  of  a  martyr ! '  These 
boys  or  their  friends  paid  fees,  when  they  could,  which 
was  not  always  ;  and  the  fees,  though  perhaps  sufficient 
to  cover  their  food,  were  by  no  means  sufficient  to  cover 
the  cost  of  a  good  education. 

From  the  spring  of  1878  Mr.  Baring  resided  there,  as 
C.M.S.  Honorary  Missionary,  with  control  of  the  Boys' 
School,  which  indeed  had  been  started  mainly  at  his  own 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  283 

expense  ;  while  Babu  Singha  worked  under  him  as  the 
Master  of  the  School.  Miss  Tucker,  as  she  stated  in  her 
letters,  held  no  such  post  as  that  of  Matron.  Her  posi- 
tion was  entirely  independent,  being  that  of  Honorary 
Zenana  Missionary.  She  paid  for  her  own  rooms  and  her 
own  board  in  the  Palace,  and  regarded  Zenana  visiting, 
and  the  writing  of  small  books  for  Indian  readers,  as  her 
prime  occupations.  But  for  Charlotte  Tucker  to  live 
under  the  same  roof  with  all  those  boys,  and  not  to  give 
them  loving  interest,  not  to  attempt  to  teach  or  influence 
them,  would  have  been  a  sheer  impossibility. 

Another  Boys'  School  had  been  started  in  Batala,  which 
must  not  be  confounded  with  the  above.  The  Baring 
High  School  was — and  is — distinctly  for  the  education  of 
Indian  Christian  boys.  The  Mission  School,  known  later 
as  'The  Plough,' — Miss  Tucker  recognising  strongly  that 
this  early  stage  of  work  in  Batala  could  only  be  compared 
to  a  farmer's  ploughing  of  his  fields, — was  for  Indian  boys, 
not  yet  Christian.  They  received  Christian  teaching  ;  and 
when  a  boy  in  the  Plough  School  became  a  convert,  he 
was  passed  on  usually  to  the  High  School.  The  very 
starting  of  this  '  Plough  School '  was  due  to  Miss  Tucker's 
liberality.  Out  of  her  own  purse  she  generously  paid  the 
main  part  of  its  expenses. 

We  must  turn  again  to  her  letters,  with  all  their  curi- 
ously fresh,  young  eagerness  and  enjoyment,  to  realise 
what  her  life  was  at  this  time.  Charlotte  Tucker  might 
call  herself '  old,' — she  was  very  fond  of  doing  so  on  every 
possible  occasion  ;  but  certainly  none  of  the  weight  of  age 
had  as  yet  descended  upon  her  spirits. 

TO   SIR   W.    HILL.^ 

'  Batala,  April  13,  1878. 
'  We  hope  next  Sunday  to  have  a  Baptism  in  our  lovely  little  lake  ; 
and  we  have  been  practising  baptismal  hymns  to  sing  on  the  joyful 
1  President  of  the  Zenana  Society. 


284  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

occasion.  We  had  some  anxiety  about  our  young  convert.  ...  He 
went  to  Amritsar  on  business  ;  and  at  the  time  when  we  expected 
his  return  he  did  not  come  back. 

'  What  could  have  happened  ?  Had  the  dear  youth  been  seized  by 
his  Muhammadan  relations  ?  Such  things  do  happen ;  the  danger  is  a 
very  real  one.  It  is  often  no  easy  matter  to  confess  Christ  in  India. 
Mr.  B.,  who  was  here,  wrote  off  a  note  to  a  Christian  Maulvi  in 
Amritsar  to  search  for  the  lad.     He  did  so,  and  found  him,  and 

brought  him  here  in  safety  last  night ;  but  not  before had  had  a 

painful  time  of  it  in  Amritsar. 

'I  looked  with  interest  on  that  Christian  Maulvi,  as  he  sat  in  our 
drawing-room,  conversing  with  the  EngHsh  Missionaries.  .  .  .  He 
has  known  well  enough  to  what  dangers  a  convert  may  be  exposed  ; 
for  he  has  experienced  them.  .  .  .  He  was  the  first  of  his  family  to 
take  up  the  Cross.  His  Muhammadan  neighbours  formed  the  fiendish 
design  of  burning  him  alive  in  his  hoicse.  They  piled  up  his  clothes, 
etc.,  in  an  under  room.  He  was  sleeping  above.  The  Muhammadans 
set  fire  to  the  pile  ;  and  the  clothes,  etc.,  were  quickly  consumed ; 
but  the  fire  did  not,  as  was  intended,  set  the  whole  house  in  a  blaze. 
The  ceiling  was  charred  ;  that  was  all ;  and  the  Christian  slept 
unharmed,  watched  over  by  the  Eye  that  never  slumbers  nor  sleeps.' 

About  this  time  A.  L.  O.  E.  wrote  home  to  another 
quarter  : — 

'  Yesterday  a  letter  arrived  from  the  schoolmaster  of  O with 

tidings  that  a  lad  of  fifteen  has  had  the  courage  to  declare  to  his  friends 
his  desire  to  become  a  Christian.  The  natural  result  of  such  a  declara- 
tion has  followed, — the  young  confessor  has  been  beaten.  It  is  no 
small  matter  to  stand  up  thus  openly  for  Christ  in  a  heathen  village. 
The  lad  may  have  to  endure  much.  I  have  seen  one  who  was  made 
to  stand  in  boiling  oil  by  his  own  father,  to  hinder  him  from  going  to 

the  Christians.     Whether  the  O boy's  conversion  has  been  the 

result  of  the  Good  Friday  expedition  we  know  not ;  but  whether  it  be 
so  or  not,  the  lad  claims  our  sympathy  and  interest.  We  shall  try  to 
bring  him  here,  to  the  Batala  Boarding-School,  where  he  may  at 
least  receive  food  and  protection.  "  It  is  a  refuge,"  said  our  Chris- 
tian Maulvi  to  me  yesterday,  glancing  up  at  the  goodly  building 
raised  by  the  Maharajah  Shere  Singh,  who  little  dreamed  that  he 
was  preparing  in  it  a  home  for  a  Christian  Natives'  Boarding-School, 
and  also  for  the  ladies  of  a  Zenana  Mission.  I  am  at  present  the  sole 
English  Agent  of  the  latter  Society  here.' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  285 

TO   MRS.   E . 

'  J/^zy  10,  1878. 

'  You  may  like  to  hear  a  little  more  about  our  School  of  young 
Panjabis,  as  it  is  rather  a  curiosity. 

'  My  nephew,  Mr.  Baring,  has  succeeded  in  making  these  young 
Natives  like  not  only  cricket,  but  gardening.  We  are  to  have  a 
Horticultural  Exhibition  in  August,  when  prizes  are  to  be  given  for 
the  best  flowers  and  fruit.  Considering  that  the  gardens  are  all  on 
ground  redeemed  from  the  lake  this  year,  it  will  hardly  be  expected 
that  the  show  will  equal  one  in  the  Botanical  Gardens.  But  oh,  you 
should  see  our  glorious  pink  water-lilies  !  They  grow  wild  in  the 
water,  and  would  be  a  sight  anywhere. 

'  I  want  the  boys  also  to  take  to  intellectual  games.  I  am  much 
pleased  at  having  succeeded  in  making  one  nice  lad  compose  two 
Sunday  enigmas.  I  by  no  means  despise  this  small  beginning  of 
authorship.  Sunday  enigmas  greatly  increase  knowledge  of  Scripture, 
and  also  help  to  make  the  holy  day  pass  pleasantly.  There  is  a  great 
deal  of  singing  here  also  ;  and  such  a  lovely  text  for  our  Chapel  wall 

is  now  almost  ready.  .  .  .  Our  dear  lads  cannot,  as did,  give  a 

beautiful  pulpit,  but  I  think  that  they  take  a  pride  and  pleasure  in 
their  Chapel. 

'  It  will  look  rather  pretty,  I  hope,  with  its  white  walls,  and  striped 
pardahs  of  red  and  white,  and  the  pretty  blue  ecclesiastical-looking 
carpet  which  is  promised  for  it.  A  Baptismal  Register  Book  is  ordered. 
I  want  a  large  one  !  God  grant  that  it  may  fill  up  rapidly.  We  shall 
require  a  cemetery  too,  and  have  rather  set  our  hearts  on  a  pretty 
mango  tope  ^  at  a  suitable  distance  from,  but  not  quite  in  sight  of, 
the  house.' 

'  Bat  ALA  ;  my  beloved  Laurds  Birthday,  May  20,  1878. 

'  On  this  day  of  all  days  in  the  year  I  could  not  but  write  to  my 
own  precious  sister,  even  if  I  had  not  such  a  nice,  long,  interesting 
letter  to  thank  her  for,  as  I  received  yesterday.  .  .  . 

'  Like  you,  I  earnestly  hope  that  the  Almighty  will  preserve  our 
dear  land  from  the  fearful  evil  of  war.  You  and  I  would  scarcely 
now  care  to  sing — 

'  "  In  the  proud  battle-fields 
Bounding  with  glee." 

'  How  little  realisation  the  juvenile  writer  had  of  what  war  is  !  .  .  . 

1  Grove  of  mango  trees. 


286  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

We  are  in  another  kind  of  warfare  here.  This  living  in  the  First 
Century,  instead  of  the  Nineteenth,  seems  to  give  a  more  vivid  colour 
to  hfe.  I  suspect  that  I  should  find  some  Missionary  stations  so 
dull  after  one  like  this  !  Such  as  those  where  year  after  year  passes 
without  an  adult  baptism  being  witnessed, — hardly  expected, — per- 
haps in  some  instances  hardly  hoped  for  !  .  .  .  The  fact  is  that  it 
needs  some  moral  courage  in  the  Missionary,  as  well  as  all  sorts  of 
courage  in  the  Convert,  to  face  the  storm  that  may  follow  a  baptism. 

'  One  feels  almost  ashamed  of  remaining  in  such  perfect  security,^ 
when  encouraging  a  poor  brown  brother  or  sister  to  go  up,  as  it 
were,  to  the  cannon's  mouth.  I  was  thinking  to-day  what  would  be 
the  most  painful  sacrifice  which  one  could  make.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  of  the  love  and  esteem  of  all  our  dear  ones.  And  that  is  just  the 
sacrifice  which  some  of  our  brethren  have  to  make  !  No  wonder 
that  they  hesitate,  weep,  shrink  from  the  flood  of  sorrow  before 
them ;  but  the  true-hearted  ones  make  the  plunge  at  last.  "  The 
love  of  Christ  constraineth." 

'  The  enclosed  to will  give  you  an  idea  of  some  people's  trials  ; 

but  ever  and  anon  new  cases  seem  to  crop  up.  I  expect  that  our  fair 
Batala  will  be  a  kind  of  harbour  of  refuge  to  hunted  ones.  Mera 
Bhatija  has  been  telling  me  that  a  Missionary — I  forget  where — is 
about  to  have  a  Baptism,  and  wants  to  send  the  new  Christian  over 
to  us  for  a  week,  to  let  the  storm  blow  over  a  little.  Another  lad  was 
all  packed  ready  to  come,  but  he  was  caught.  He  means  to  take  the 
opportunity  of  escaping  when  he  can.  .  .  . 

'  Mera  Bhatija  and  I  are  curious  to  see  the  Rainbow  glass. 
Perhaps,  if  it  be  small,  I  may  show  it  off  in  the  Zenanas.  New  and 
curious  things  give  much  pleasure.  From  a  little  round  pin-cushion 
of  mine  the  pretty  glass  picture  of  a  Cathedral  came  off.  I  often 
take  it  with  me,  and  show  it,  and  say,  "This  is  an  English  Church, 
in  which  God  is  praised  every  day  ! "  Mere  prints  do  not  take  with 
the  Natives.    They  like  coloured  things  that  glitter.' 

TO   MRS.   J.   BOSWELL. 

'Mayii,  1878. 

'  It  is  wonderful  to  me  how  an  English  lady  can  go  without  fear  or 
danger  all  about  Batala,  meeting  with  so  much  respect  and  courtesy. 
I  do  not  feel  it  the  sHghtest  risk.  Into  narrow  lanes,  up  dark  stair- 
cases,— amongst  women,  amongst  men, — I  go  without  the  smallest 

1  Not  always  perfect  security.  Instances  have  occurred,  though  seldom,  of 
Missionaries  themselves  being  attacked  and  roughly  handled  on  such  occasions. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  287 

excuse  for  being  alarmed.  The  people,  too,  generally  listen  very 
quietly,  though  what  is  said  may  be  dead  against  their  views.  I  make 
the  slender  concession  of  calling  Muhammad  "  Mr.  Muhammad " 
— "  Muhammad  Sahib  " — but  no  one  could  object  to  so  common  a 
title.     He  is  never  called  "  Hasrat " — Saint — like  Moses  and  David.' 

TO  THE  SAME. 

^  May  29,  1878. 

'  Three  new  boys  have  arrived  to-day.  I  am  glad  that  they  did 
not  come  till  I  had  pretty  well  learned  up  the  first  seventeen,  tacking 
the  right  names  to  the  right  faces.  It  took  me  a  good  while  to  do 
this,  for  I  have  a  difficulty  in  remembering  faces.  .  .  . 

'  The  Natives  who  send  their  boys  to  this  upper-class  school  are  of 
course  anxious  that  the  lads  should  be  good  English  scholars.  At 
this  time  of  high-pressure  education  it  is  necessary  that  they  should 
be  so.  Mr.  Baring  drudges  day  after  day  at  the  English  classes  ; 
but  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  could  give  a  little  help  in  play-hours.  I 
have  written  an  English  charade  for  our  young  Panjabis  to  recite  ; 
and  the  idea  has,  I  think,  taken  with  them.  It  needed  a  little 
management  to  give  a  separate  part  to  every  one  of  seventeen  boys, 
apportioning  it  to  the  individual's  capacity.  Pretty  little  P.  (five 
years)  could  not  be  expected  to  manage  more  than  a  line  and  a  half ; 
but  it  would  never  have  done  to  have  left  him  out.  Into  each  of  the 
three  divisions  of  the  charade  I  have  introduced  a  lively  chorus,  in 
which  all  can  join.     The  song  that  takes  most  is — 

'  "  I  am  a  brisk  and  sprightly  lad, 
But  newly  come  from  sea,  sir  !  " 

'  This  is  rather  curious,  as  none  of  our  Punjabis  have  ever  seen 
the  sea.  The  chorus  will  be  first-rate  practice  for  rapid,  clear  pro- 
nunciation ;  for 

'  "When  the  boatswain  pipes  '  All  hands  aloft ! '  " 

would  not  be  an  easy  line  even  for  some  English  boys.  If  the  lads 
manage  tolerably  well,  the  charade  will  be  great  fun.  Who  would 
ever  have  dreamt  that  part  of  a  Missionary's  work  should  be  to  set 
boys  to  learn  a  lively  charade  ! 

'  I  pity  the  City  boys.  I  suspect  that  there  is  a  sort  of  wistful 
longing  raised  in  many  a  young  heart,  "  I  wish  I  were  one  of  those 
Christian  boys  ! "  If  there  could  be  a  blind  ballot  of  Batala  boys,  as 
to  whether  the  whole  town  should  become  Christian,  I  am  by  no 
means  sure  whether  the  votes  would  not  be  in  our  favour.     I  do  not 


288  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

mean  that  the  poor,  dear  lads  are  converts,  but  that  they  use  their 
eyes  and  ears, — and  think  that  ours  must  be  a  very  pleasant,  genial 
kind  of  religion,  connected  in  some  sort  of  way  with  singing,  and 
cricket,  and  kindness.' 

Another  short  English  play,  written  by  Miss  Tucker  for 
the  boys,  was  called  The  Bee  and  the  Butterfly.  Miss 
Mulvany,  a  Missionary,  went  one  day,  somewhere  about 
this  time,  to  Batala  for  a  few  hours  ;  and  in  the  course  of 
her  visit  she  was  sent  upstairs,  while  Charlotte  Tucker 
gave  the  boys  a  lesson  in  acting  the  said  little  play.  Miss 
Mulvany  has  never  lost  the  impression  made  upon  her  by 
the  peals  and  shouts  of  laughter  which  came  up  from  the 
merry  company  below. 

TO  MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'June  19,  1878. 

'  I  am  reading  the  Granth,i  the  sacred  book  of  the  Sikhs.  Like  the 
Koran,  it  is  very  long, — I  think  more  than  600  quarto  pages, — and 
with  an  immense  deal  of  repetition  in  it.  But  it  leaves  on  the  mind 
a  very  different  impression  from  the  Koran.  As  far  as  I  have  read, 
it  is  wonderfully  pure  and  spiritual.  If  you  could  substitute  the 
name  "Almighty"  for  "  Hari,"  and  "Lord  Jesus"  for  "Guru,"  2  it 
might  almost  seem  the  composition  of  hermits  in  the  early  centuries, 
except  that  celibacy  is  not  enjoined.  Woman  seems  to  be  given  her 
proper  place.     Many  exhortations  are  addressed  to  women.  .  .  . 

'  There  is  something  touching  in  the  longing — the  yearning — after 
God, — the  intense  love  of  His  Name  !  The  Sikh  idea  of  God  is  not 
that  of  the  Hindus,  with  their  fiend-like  deities.  The  Creator  is 
light,  and  goodness,  and  happiness.  There  is  indeed  the  ridiculous 
idea  of  people  having  to  pass  through  840,000  states  of  existence, — 
unless  the  probation  be  shortened  by  meditation,  purity,  and  the 
repetition  of  God's  name, — but  this  fearful  number  of  births  is 
regarded  as  very  tiresome  indeed. 

'  One  might  call  the  Granth  "  the  book  of  yearning,"  and  I  feel 
humiliated  that  I,  with  Gospel  light,  should  in  spiritual  contemplation 
and  longing  for  closest  communion  with  the  Deity  come  so  far 
behind  these  poor  Sikhs.  Unfortunately,  the  Sikh  religion  has 
been  so  much  corrupted  that  it  is  almost  dying  out.     I  suppose  that 

1  Pronounced  Grunt.  2  Teacher. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  289 

it  was  too  pure  to  please  the  Enemy  ;  he  knew  that  the  Granth  would 
offer  no  strong  opposition  to  the  Bible.  Here,  in  Batala,  his  strong- 
hold seems  to  me  to  be  Muhammadanism.  It  shocks  me  to  find  how 
that  invention  of  Satan  darkens  the  moral  sense.  What  would  be 
thought  sin  in  another,  is  by  some  openly  defended  as  no  sin  if 
committed  by  Muhammad!  ! 

'  The  Muhammadans  too  are  so  ready  to  stand  up  for  their  false 
faith  ;  far  more  inclined  to  defend  it  than  the  Hindus  are  to  defend 
theirs.  Mera  Bhatija  was  saying  to-day  that  no  book  has  been 
written  against  Christianity  by  a  Hindu.  I  have  myself,  however, 
seen  a  very  bitter  article  in  a  paper.  But,  generally  speaking,  the 
Muhammadans  seem  to  be  much  sterner  opponents  of  Truth  than  the 
Hindus.    I  feel  it  in  the  Zenanas. 

'  Now,  my  own  Laura,  I  am  going  to  my  long  task  of  reading  the 
Granth.  It  puts  me  on  vantage-ground  when  I  can  tell  the  Natives 
that  I  have  read  their  Scriptures.' 

The  High  School  was  not  to  have  broken  up  before  the 
middle  of  August ;  but  circumstances  caused  Mr.  Baring 
to  fix  upon  a  fortnight  earlier,  and  this  decided  Miss 
Tucker  to  go  to  Amritsar  on  July  28.  She  at  once 
planned  that  two  of  the  hard-worked  ladies  at  the  Mission 
bungalow  should  then  take  their  holiday,  while  she 
remained  as  a  companion  to  the  third.  It  does  not  appear 
that  she  had  any  idea  of  the  Hills  for  herself.  No  doubt 
the  change  to  Amritsar  would  mean  pleasure,  if  not  rest ; 
and  she  was  still  able  to  speak  of  herself  as  '  wonderfully 
well ' ;  but  the  unselfish  thought  for  every  one  else,  rather 
than  of  her  own  needs,  is  not  the  less  remarkable. 

To  one  of  her  correspondents  she  wrote  from  Batala  on 
the  6th  of  July :  '  You  know  that  I  am  the  only  English- 
woman within  twenty  miles.  Now  and  then  friends  pass 
a  night  here ;  but  in  the  hot  weather  not  often.  .  .  .  The 
29th  will,  if  I  stay  till  then,  complete  sixteen  weeks  of 
steady  residence,  during  which  I  have  only  twice  seen 
English  ladies, — for  less  than  twenty-four  hours.  I  doubt 
whether  any  European  has  ever  stopped  in  Batala  so  long 
before  without  a  single  night's  absence.  .  .  .  Once  from 
T 


290  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Friday  evening  to  Monday  morning  1  saw  no  white  face. 
There  is  a  nice  brown  lady  in  the  house.'  ^ 

At  Amritsar  she  found  herself  as  usual  in  the  midst  of 
engrossing  interests.  Fresh  Baptisms  were  taking  place  ; 
and  about  these  she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  on  the  2 1st 
of  August,  describing  one  just  past : — 

'There  was  a  sweet-looking  woman,  D.,  a  convert  from  Hindu- 
ism, and  her  two  dear  little  girls.  Her  husband,  who  is  not  brave 
enough,  or  perhaps  not  sufficiently  led  towards  Christianity,  to 
follow  her  example,  saw  her  depart  for  church.  "  You  know  that  she 
is  going  to  be  baptized,"  said  Emily.  "Yes,  yes,"  was  the  reply. 
"  You  must  be  kind  to  her,  and  receive  her  back."  The  man  made 
no  objection, — even  to  his  two  children  being  baptized  ;  though  he  had 
formerly  put  obstacles  in  the  way.  There  was  a  fourth,  a  convert  from 
Muhammadanism,  T.,  whose  baptism  was  the  most  interesting  of 
all.  .  .  .  The  clergyman  subjected  the  poor  girl  to  the  ordeal  of  a 
severe  examination.  She  had  never  probably  spoken  to  an  English- 
man before  ;  and  it  would  have  been  no  wonder  had  she  flinched  or 
faltered.  But  she,  who  has  already  been  beaten  at  home  for  Christ's 
sake,  showed  no  sign  of  weakness.  Her  answers  came  clear  and 
firm.  "Is  it  because  of  Miss  Wanton's  speaking  that  you  come?" 
"No,  it  is  because  of  my  heart's  speaking." 

'The  miseries  and  persecutions  that  may  be  coming  upon  her 
were  almost,  I  think,  too  faithfully  set  before  her.  "  If  they  were 
even  to  kill  me,  as  they  did  M.'s  father,  what  fear?"  said  the  daunt- 
less girl.  .  .  . 

'  I  remarked  to ,  on  my  return  from  the  baptism,  that  I  thought 

that  the  Indian  women  were  braver  than  the  men.  He  quite  agreed  ; 
he  knows  that  he  dare  not  come  forward  like  D.  and  T.  Our  noble 
N.  is,  we  believe,  a  Christian  at  heart,  and  we  know  other  men 
of  whom  we  think  that  the  same  might  be  said,  but  they  linger  and 
linger,  and  dare  not  yet  ask  for  baptism.  Here  this  year  in  Amritsar 
we  have  had  five  women,  and  last  year  two,  who,  in  the  face  of  what 
we  might  have  considered  almost  insurmountable  obstacles,  have 
bravely  confessed  Christ  in  baptism.  It  must  be  much  harder  for 
them  than  for  the  men,  but  they  seem  to  have  more  courage,  or  more 
faith.' 

Several  weeks  later  another  reference  in  home-letters  is 

1  Bibi  Singha. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  291 

found  to  the  brave  girl,  mentioned  above :  '  By  last 
accounts  dear  T.  is  holding  out  nobly.  We  are  not 
allowed  to  see  her ;  but  I  hear  that  one  or  more  Maulvis  ^ 
have  been  brought  to  try  to  argue  the  young  maiden  out 
of  her  faith.  But  she  tells  them  that  they  may  read  to 
her  all  day  long,  but  they  never  will  change  her.  They 
say  that  Christianity  is  'written  on  her  heart,' — what  a 
testimony  from  Muhammadans  ! — and  that  the  ladies  must 
have  bewitched  her.  It  reminds  me  of  Lady  Jane  Grey 
in  prison  ;  for  dear  T.  is  a  prisoner.' 

Plans  did  not  fit  in  as  Miss  Tucker  had  intended. 
Once  more  she  found  herself  called  upon  to  act  escort  to 
a  sick  Missionary,  who  had  to  go  to  the  Hills,  and  was 
not  well  enough  to  travel  alone.  Miss  Wauton  could  not 
just  then  be  spared  from  Amritsar,  and  she  appealed  to 
the  '  Auntie,'  whose  readiness  to  help  in  any  emergency 
was  by  this  time  well  understood.  '  It  seems  as  if  by 
some  fatality  I  must  go  each  year  to  Dalhousie,'  Charlotte 
Tucker  said  in  one  letter,  adding,  '  But  1  hope  to  return 
back  in  a  few  days.'  Then,  in  allusion  to  a  scheme  that 
she  should  join  her  nephew  at  Murree  in  September,  '  I 
do  not  propose  staying  long.  After  sixteen  weeks  of 
unbroken  residence  at  Batala,  behold  me  rushing  up  and 
down  hills  like  a  comet.' 

TO   MISS   L.    v.   TUCKER. 

'Aug.  14,  1878. 

'  We  are  to  have  a  Confirmation  here  on  the  3rd  of  November.  I 
should  be  much  tempted  to  come  up  from  Batala  to  witness  it, 
particularly  if  any  Batala  Christians  are  confirmed.     I  am  afraid  that 

's   wife  will    shrink  from  breaking   pardah, — that  nonsensical 

pardah,  which  is  a  real  snare  to  some  baptized  bibis.  .  .  .  There  is 
one  dear  baptized  young  bride  in  Batala,  whom  I  have  not  seen,  but 
hope  to  search  out  on  my  return.  The  brave  girl  dared  to  be  baptized 
in  Amritsar,  but  was  then  carried  off  by  her  husband  to  Batala,  and 

1  Muhammadan  teachers. 


292  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

we  know  not  in  what  part  she  is.     She  is  Hkely  to  be  having  a  hard 
time  of  it,  but  it  is  quite  right  in  her  to  be  with  her  husband.  .  .  .' 

Writing  home,  she  described  drolly  her  absence  from 
Batala  as — '  this  strange  episode  of  my  life  ; — seven  weeks 
acting  Superintendent  of  the  Orphanage, — three  of  those 
weeks  sole  Missionary  at  Amritsar, — and — oh,  bathos  ! 
ten  days  an  ayah — for  I  had  none  other.'  Still  her  health 
seemed  to  keep  good.  She  could  stand  the  plains  in  hot 
weather  as  scarcely  another  Missionary  was  able  to  do. 
While  one  and  another  broke  down,  and  had  to  be  off  to 
the  Hills,  Miss  Tucker  kept  about,  much  the  same  as 
usual,  filling  up  as  far  as  possible  the  gaps  left  by  others. 

She  was  full  of  ardent  sympathy  at  this  time  for  certain 
converts  from  Muhammadanism,  undergoing  severe  per- 
secutions, and  was  much  distressed  at  the  difficulty  of 
doing  anything  for  them.  She  even  formed  a  daring  plan 
for  carrying  off  one  brave  young  girl  from  her  relatives, 
and  taking  her  to  a  safe  distance ;  and  Miss  Tucker  was 
with  difficulty  dissuaded  from  a  scheme  which  others  of 
longer  experience  knew  too  well  might  lead  to  serious 
complications. 

Another,  a  wife,  and  also  her  daughter,  were  at  this 
time  in  frequent  peril,  because  they  had  become  Christians 
in  heart,  and  were  earnestly  desiring  Baptism.  The 
husband,  a  Muhammadan,  would  sometimes  sit  between 
the  two,  sharpening  a  knife,  and  threatening  to  stab  them. 
Once  he  violently  seized  the  daughter  by  her  throat.  Life 
with  them  must  have  been  one  long  unhappiness;  yet 
Miss  Tucker,  after  an  interview  with  the  poor  wife,  could 
describe  her  as  looking  '  worn,  but  so  bright  and  brave.' 

In  September  she  was  at  Murree,  helping  to  nurse  her 
niece,  and  to  take  care  of  the  tiny  baby, — which  latter 
occupation,  she  wrote,  was  'more  formidable  to  an  old 
maiden  Aunt  than  conversing  in  Urdu  with  a  learned 
Maulvi,  or  doing  the  agreeable  to  a  Rajah,  would  be.' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  293 

Of  the  place  itself  she  said  :  '  Murree  is  not  a  cheering 
place  to  a  Missionary.  .  .  .  One  sees  numbers  of  Natives  ; 
but  how  is  one  to  tell  the  glad  tidings  ?  I  feel  like  a  doctor 
with  multitudes  of  sick  around  him, — and  he  cannot  get  at 
his  medicine-chest.  I  have  brought  Urdu  religious  books  ; 
I  find  no  good  opportunity  of  giving  even  one  away.' 

October  saw  her  once  more  in  the  spot  where  she  loved 
to  be,  writing  joyously  home — 

'  Here  I  am,  in  my  own  Station  again,  and  glad  to  be  back.  I 
find  that  our  little  Christian  flock  has  been  increasing  in  a  very 
encouraging  way  during  my  absence.  There  was  a  nice  little 
round  of  visits  to  pay  to  Christian  families.^  Those  who  had  been 
last  baptized  I  had  never  seen  before  to  my  knowledge.     A  man  of 

some  forty  or  fifty  years  of  age,  employed  in  the  Government , 

who  has  been  thinking  on  the  subject  of  religion  for  about  nine  years. 
For  about  two  years  he  has  been  going  to  some  quiet  place,  when  he 
had  leisure,  to  weep  and  pray.  He  appears  now  to  be  a  very  earnest 
and  bold  Christian.  At  his  own  desire  he  was  baptized  in  the  middle 
of  the  city,  in  a  room  set  apart  in  the  school.' 

Very  soon  after  Miss  Tucker's  return  came  the  death  of 
a  little  Christian  Native  baby ;  and  the  quiet  Christian 
funeral  was  in  marked  contrast  with  the  wild  wailings 
usual  at  Muhammadan  funerals, — though  some  Muham- 
madan  lamentings  were  heard  from  one  visitor  present. 

'We  decked  the  little  sleeping  form  with  flowers;  a  rose  was 
placed  in  each  hand,  a  fragrant  white  Cross  on  the  breast.  ...  I 
attended  the  funeral  ;  so  did  a  good  band  of  Native  Christians, 
including  our  schoolboys.  The  cemetery  was  a  Muhammadan  one. 
We  must  buy  one  for  ourselves,  as  we  are,  thank  God,  a  growing 
body.  I  hope  that  in  another  month  we  may  number  fifty  baptized 
persons  in  Batala ;  and  I  have  lately  been  writing  out  the  heading 
for  a  Subscription  for  a  Church  at  our  dear  Batala.  We  have  now 
only  schoolrooms  turned  into  Chapels.  My  list  is  to  lie  on  our  table 
for  visitors  to  see.  Perhaps  it  will  be  one  or  two  years  before  we  have 
collected  enough  ;  and  by  that  time,  please  God,  the  flock  may  have 
doubled  or  quadrupled. 

1  Not  all  actually  Batala  converts ;  some  having  come  from  Amritsar,  in  con- 
nection with  the  school,  etc. 


294  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

*  It  will  be  so — and  more — if  we  go  on  at  the  rate  at  which  the 
Church  has  been  growing.  The  bringing  the  Boys'  School  here 
has  been  a  grand  thing.  The  dear  fellows,  on  the  whole,  set  such  a 
nice  example,  and  they  seem  so  happy. 

^  Nov.  4,  1878. — I  have  come  to  Amritsar  for  a  few  days,  for  the 
Confirmation,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  receiving  your  dear  letter  of 
October  ist  yesterday.  .  .  .  How  can  beloved  St.  George  send  me 
such  bad  advice  ?  I  like  his  example  better  than  his  counsel.  What 
did  he  do  in  time  of  trouble?  Stick  to  his  post  like  a  Tucker! 
Those  of  our  Missionary  family,  with  whom  I  have  spoken  on  the 
subject,!  all  agree  with  me  that  we  should  never  desert  our  flocks. 
What  sort  of  army  would  that  be,  in  which  all  the  officers  ran  away 
at  sight  of  an  enemy  ?  .  .  .  But  take  no  thought  about  me,  dear  one. 
Unless  we  meet  with  serious  reverses  in  Afghanistan,  I  do  not  see 
danger  of  a  rising,  especially  in  the  Panjab,  where,  on  the  whole, 
I  think  that  we  are  considered  tolerable  rulers. 

'And  if  there  were  troubles,  I  suspect  that  we  Missionaries  would 
run  a  better  chance  than  other  Europeans,  we  have  such  numbers  of 
friends  amongst  the  heathen.  .  .  .  Just  fancy — our  Bible-woman  and 
her  husband  are  actually  collecting  money  from  Hindus  and 
Muhammadans  for  our  Church  !  A  poor  woman  gave  some  barley. 
If  you  were  to  hear  all  the  polite  little  speeches,  and  see  all  the 
smiles  that  pass  between  Missionary  and  Natives,  you  would  not 
expect  us  to  be  afraid.  A  Missionary  in  any  case  should  have 
nothing  to  do  with  fear, — it  is  dishonouring  to  the  Master. 

'  My  love,  how  can  you  think  of  sending  me  another  dress  for 
winter  ?  Do  you  think  me  so  careless  and  extravagant  as  to  have 
worn  out  the  graceful  Grey  already  ?  I  never  take  it  into  a  duli ;  I 
keep  my  faithful  Green  for  such  rough  work.  But  if  a  new  winter 
dress  is  actually  in  hand,  let  me  send  you  even  before  seeing  it  a 
thousand  thanks  for  it.' 

FROM  AN   INDIAN  CHRISTIAN,  CONVERT   FROM  MUHAMMADANISM, 

1878 

'  My  DEAR  Miss  Tucker, — I  received  your  kind  letter,  dated 
1 3th  instant,  and  the  newspaper  yesterday.  I  am  very  thankful  to 
you.  I  read  it  many  times,  and  it  truly  made  me  brave.  I  like  the 
piece  of  poetry  you  quoted  very  much.  Every  day  I  pray  to  God  to 
lead  me  in  the  right  way.  I  think  my  prayer  is  heard,  for  I  do  not 
feel  so  lonely  as  I  did  at  first ;  but  I  get  fever  nearly  every  day.     I 

1  Threatened  war  with  Afghanistan. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  295 

had  gone  over  to  Lahore  on  Friday,  and  stayed  there  for  Saturday 
and  Sunday.  ...  I  remember  you  in  my  prayers,  and  I  hope  you 
do  the  same.  Now  I  will  not  feel  lonely.  Please  do  not  be 
anxious.  .  .  .' 

C.   M.   T.   TO   MRS.   HAMILTON. 

^  Nov.  8. — If  I  were  not  a  Mission  Miss  Sahiba,  who  should  never 
complain,  I  might  give  a  groan  or  a  grumble  to  the  mice  and  rats. 
They  get  into  my  almira,  and  what  is  even  worse,  into  my  harmonium. 
I  had  a  tin  plate  made  for  the  pedal  part^  expressly  to  keep  creatures 
out ;  but  they  managed  to  pass  it.  I  have  now  had  a  second  large 
one  made,  and  hope  that  it  may  prove  more  effectual.  The  creatures 
have  bitten  almost  all  the  red  Persian  away ;  to-day  I  found  lumps 
of  wadding  in  my  harmonium.  "  How  could  they  have  come  there  ?" 
I  asked  of  my  sharp  kahar,  V.  I  suspected  the  rats,  but  did  not 
know  where  they  could  have  got  the  wadding  from, — when  V. 
suggested  the  beautiful  padded  cover  of  my  harmonium.  Sure 
enough,  the  rogues  had  bitten  holes  in  that,  and  pulled  out  wadding 
to  stuff  into  my  harmonium,  doubtless  to  make  a  comfortable  nest 
for  a  family  of  young  mice  or  rats.  I  tried  a  Batala  trap  ;  it  was  of 
no  use  :  I  have  bought  an  Amritsar  one,  and  Mera  Bhatija  has 
bought  another ;  but  the  rats,  I  fear,  will  not  be  much  thinned  in 
numbers.  We  try  to  get  a  weasel,  but  have  not  succeeded  yet.  But 
things  might  have  been  much  worse.     The  rats  never  try  to  eat  us  ! ' 

^  Nov.  14. — I  do  not  think  that  I  told  you  of  two  Christian  fakirs, 
to  whom  I  was  introduced  at  Amritsar.  They  were  very  badly 
clothed,  fakir-like,  but — especially  one  of  them — had  pleasing, 
sensible  faces.  I  suppose  that  they  wander  about,  and  lead  a  kind 
of  John  the  Baptist  Hfe.  How  curious  such  a  style  of  Christian 
would  appear  in  old  England  ! ' 

''Nov.  20. — I  have  been  wanting — wanting — my  English  letters, 
expecting  them  these  four  days.  At  last  here  they  are,  and  such 
nice  dear  ones.  .  .  . 

'  I  shall  much  like  to  hear  what  you  think  of  my  sweet  Margaret. 
I  doubt  whether  she  will  be  in  good  looks,  she  has  been  so  sorely 
tried  by  her  dear  Mother's  illness,  and  the  struggle  in  her  own  mind, 
— longing  to  come  to  our  help,  yet  unable  to  do  so  !     I  feel  for  her. 

*  I  think  that  dear  Emily  benefited  little  or  not  at  all  by  her  trip 
to  the  Hills.  She  ought  to  go  home  in  the  spring, — after  more  than 
six  years'  work, — so  ought  Miss  Fuller;  but  neither  can  leave  till 
they  fairly  break  down  ;  for  there  is  no  one  to  take  their  place.  .  .  . 


296  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

*You  think,  love,  that  by  September  4th  "the  most  dangerous 
season  was  over."  Far  from  it !  September  is,  I  think,  the  most 
dangerous  month  in  all  the  year  in  the  Panjab.  Very  hot,  and  full 
of  fever.  My  hardest  pull  up-hill  since  I  came  to  India  was,  I  think, 
in  September.  You  have  had  the  heat  then  for  so  long,  you  have 
less  vigour,  and  the  air  is  so  unwholesome.     Sickness  all  around. 

'  How  good  you  are  to  send  me  another  dress  !  My  graceful  Grey 
still  looks  very  well.  I  consider  it  rather  a  company  dress,  and  have 
my  Green  for  the  Zenanas,  which  are  sometimes  so  dirty !  I  am 
wearing  it  now,  for  the  weather  is  becoming  very  cold.  It  is  rather 
amusing  to  see  our  Panjabis  come  in  for  Morning  Prayers,  about 
sunrise  on  a  sharp  morning.  There  is  P.  with  a  red  comforter 
round  head  and  neck ;  J.  is  wrapped  in  his  white  blanket.  Poor 
Babu  Singha,  with  a  cold  of  course,  is  wondering  how  the  big  room 
below  is  ever  to  be  kept  warm.  Mera  Bhatija  and  I  are  going  to 
change  our  drawing-room.  The  northern  room  is  far  the  best  in 
summer ;  but  in  winter  we  escape  to  the  southern,  and  what  was  our 
guest-room  becomes  our  sitting-room.  There  is  actually  a  fireplace 
in  it ! — and  the  sunbeams  stream  in.  .  .  . 

*  Instead  of  spending  the  long  winter  evenings  in  solitary  grandeur 
upstairs,  I  now  come  down  and  make  one  of  the  cheerful  party  in  the 
schoolroom.  It  is  much  less  distracting  to  be  amongst  a  score  of 
boys  than  you  would  suppose.  I  and  some  of  them  have  been  trying 
the  vitre-manie  (?)  for  our  Chapel-window.  Yesterday  I  brought 
down  my  chess-board  and  challenged  the  boys,  and  fought  P.,  R., 
and  I.  C,  one  after  the  other.  .  .  . 

*0n  Sunday  evening  we  sing  hymns  for  ever  so  long  together, 
just  like  one  huge  family.  The  boys  never  seem  to  quarrel,  or  say 
one  spiteful  word  of  each  other.  We  have  just  had  two  new 
boys  ;  one  is  an  Afghan  ;  so  we  shall  have  the  sons  of  Christian, 
Muhammadan,  Hindu,  and  Afghan,  (by  race,)  parents  all  together.' 

TO  MISS  *  LEILA'  HAMILTON. 

'Dec.  13,  1878. 

*This  evening  as  Mera  Bhatija  has  gone  to  Amritsar,  I  asked 
three  of  our  lads  to  tea.  .  .  .  After  tea  I  taught  the  lads  "  Cross 
Questions  and  Crooked  Answers,"  and  showed  them  my  splendid 
bubbles  and  my  chatelaine,  which  were  greatly  admired,  and  my 
photograph-book,  a  great  treasure  to  me.  But  what  gave  perhaps 
more  amusement  than  anything  was  the  Beaconsfield  handkerchief. 
I  was  so  glad  to  get  some  photos  at  last.  .  .  .  My  visits  in  the 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  297 

city  were  interesting.      Dear  B n's  troubles  have  re-opened  his 

mother's  Zenana  to  me.  She  even  paid  me  a  visit  here.  I  do  not 
see  any  inclination  in  her  to  become  a  Christian,  however  ;  she  says 
that  I  shall  go  to  Heaven  my  way,  and  she  hers.  I  suggested  the 
disagreeableness  of  840,000  transmigrations  ;  but  she  did  not  seem 
troubled.  Perhaps  she  hopes  that  she  has  passed  through  a  few 
hundreds  of  millions  already.' 

TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

''Dec.  23,  1878. — "I  shall  go  to  rest  to-night  nestling  under  my 
Laura's  love,  and  I  shall  rise  very  early  to  thank  her,"  was  my 
thought  last  night,  as  I  got  into  my  nice  comfortable  bed,  with  her 
soft,  light,  warm  quilt  above  me.  And  here  I  am  sitting  by  my 
blazing  wood  fire,  long  ere  dawn,  with  that  same  quilt  like  a  shawl 
round  my  shoulders, — so  comfy  !  Luxurious  Char  !  But,  after  all,  I 
have  not  begun  my  thanks,  and  where  am  I  to  end  them  ? 

'Your  wonderfully  packed  parcel  reached  me  in  perfect  safety 
yesterday.  It  was  something  like  a  nut,  for  it  was  rather  difficult  to 
get  at  the  kernel.  So  much  careful  stitching  by  dear  fingers.  At 
last,  however,  the  beautifully  warm  skirt  and  quilt,  and  most  exquisite 
cards,  were  fully  displayed  to  view.  A  thousand,  thousand  thanks  I 
I  have  so  many  things,  such  goodly  gifts,  to  remember  my  Laura 
by  !  .  .  . 

'Our  Christmas  festivities  have  already  begun.  Our  house  is 
pretty  full  with  Native  friends.  Perhaps  the  most  interesting  is 
dear  B.,  the  once  Muhammadan  wife  of  a  Christian  Catechist,  and 
mother  of  Christian  children,  who  was  so  sturdily  bigoted  that  she 
held  out  for  thirteen  years,  before  she  would  give  herself  to  the 
Saviour.  But  then  she  did  so  in  her  honest  way.  B.  was  never 
a  hypocrite  ;  we  respected  her  when  she  vexed  us.  It  was  something 
for  her  to  remain  with  her  husband  ;  for,  by  Muhammadan  law, 
baptism  of  husband  or  wife  constitutes  divorce.  Mera  Bhatija  told 
me  of  a  curious  case,  which  excited  much  interest, — to  Europeans  it 
would  excite  much  surprise.  A  Muhammadan,  who  had,  I  suppose, 
read  Christian  books,  was  travelling  with  some  other  Muhammadans, 
and  was  imprudent  enough  to  say  that  Muhammad  wrought  no 
miracles,  and  expressed  doubts  as  to  his  being  really  a  prophet. 
The  poor  man  happened  to  have  a  rich  wife,  who,  we  may  believe, 
did  not  care  for  him.  To  speak  against  the  Prophet  is  enough  to 
constitute  a  divorce  !  The  companions  of  the  man  did  not  let  their 
chance  go  of  half  ruining  him.     The  case  was  brought  into  Court, 


298    LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

and  an  English  judge  was  obliged  to  give  a  verdict  against  the 
unfortunate  fellow,  who  had  expressed  an  honest  opinion.  He  lost 
his  wife  and  her  rich  dowry.  .  .  .' 

'  Amritsar,  Z>^^.  28,  1878. — I  am  sitting  with  my  sweet  Laura's 
delicious  quilt  wrapped  closely  round  my  shoulders,  for  it  is  warmer 
than  a  shawl ;  and  I  am  up  before  the  fire-lighting  period.  Not 
being  at  home,  I  do  not  know  how  to  light  the  fire  myself. 

'  Our  Christmas  at  Batala  went  off  beautifully,  and  has,  I  think,  left 
a  feeling  of  thankfulness  on  both  Mera  Bhatija's  mind  and  my  own. 
The  following  day  we  both  came  to  Amritsar.  Yesterday  was  the 
grand  opening  of  the  Alexandra  School.  Mr.  Clark  asked  me  to 
write  an  account  of  it  for  his  report.  I  did  not  like  the  task ;  it 
makes  one  feel  so  penny-a-linerish  ;  and  one  is  afraid  of  writing  to 
please  this  or  that  person,  etc.  ;  but  I  could  not  well  refuse,  so  I  have 
been  scribbling  something  in  pencil  in  the  cold,  which  I  mean  to 
submit  to  dear  Emily's  criticism.  .  .  . 

'  Oh,  I  must  tell  you  what  a  boon  your  Beaconsfield  handkerchief  is  ! 
It  gave  much  amusement  at  Batala,  both  to  Europeans  and  Natives  ; 
it  is  giving  much  here  at  Amritsar.  I  am  engaged  to  dine  with  the 
Clarks  this  evening  ;  so  I  dare  say  that  the  good  Bishop,  Archdeacon, 
and  all  will  have  a  laugh  over  my  puzzle.  On  Monday  I  am  to  go  to 
Lahore,  and  sleep  a  night  at  Government  House.  I  mean  to  take 
my  handkerchief  with  me.  .  .  . 

'Batala  will  present  rather  a  contrast  to  bustling  Amritsar  and 
Lahore.  When  I  return,  there  will  probably  be  no  European  but 
myself  there  for  days,  as  Mera  Bhatija  must  be  absent  at  the 
Conference  till  the  6th.' 

So  ended  the  third  year  of  Miss  Tucker's  life  in  India. 
She  had  now  thoroughly  settled  down  to  her  own  especial 
work  in  Batala. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

A.D.  1878-1879 

EARLY   CHRISTIAN   DAYS   IN    THE    19TH   CENTURY 

It  is  clear  that  Charlotte  Tucker  was  profoundly  im- 
pressed with  the  sense  of  living,  as  she  said,  in  the  First 
Century,  instead  of  the  Nineteenth.  In  another  letter, 
soon  to  be  quoted,  she  describes  her  Batala  experience  as 
'  being  carried  back  to  the  days  of  the  Apostles.' 

For  in  Batala  the  complex  conditions  of  modern  life, 
the  intricacies  of  Nineteenth  Century  Christianity,  were 
absent  Here  in  England  it  is  more  or  less  the  correct 
thing  to  be  in  some  measure  religious,  to  be  at  least 
nominally  a  Christian.  People  are  on  the  whole  expected 
to  go  to  Church, — or,  if  Dissenters,  just  as  much  to 
go  to  Chapel, — and  though  the  going  to  Church,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  does  not  at  all  indicate  the  lack  of 
deeper  reasons,  of  purer  motives  underlying,  it  does  make 
the  going  a  very  easy  matter.  So,  also,  a  mother  takes 
her  little  one  to  Church  for  Baptism,  again  almost  as  a 
matter  of  course ;  often  indeed  with  heartfelt  prayer  and 
longing,  but  with  no  question  of  danger  involved  in  the  act. 
It  is  a  perfectly  simple  thing  to  do.  More  attention  would 
in  fact  be  drawn  by  not  doing  it  than  by  doing  it. 

At  Batala,  as  in  thousands  of  other  Heathen  and 
Muhammadan  cities,  things  are  widely  different.  Sharp 
lines  of  demarcation  are  drawn  between  the  Christian 
and   the   non-Christian, — between    the   Church   and    the 


300  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

heathen  world  around.  It  was  so  most  markedly  when 
Charlotte  Tucker  lived  in  Batala.  There,  as  in  Early 
Christian  days,  was  the  great  mass  of  those  who  neither 
knew  nor  cared  for  the  Names  of  God  and  Christ ;  and  in 
their  midst  was  the  Infant  Church,  a  tiny  body  of  brave 
men  and  women,  who  had  come  out  from  amongst  the 
Heathen  and  Muhammadans,  to  be  known  as  the  servants 
of  Christ.i 

And  the  step  which  led  from  the  one  to  the  other  stood 
clear  and  defined,  with  no  possibility  of  a  mistake.  The 
marching-orders  which  our  Lord  and  Master  issued  were 
not  only  to  go  forth  and  teach.  Here  is  the  fuller 
version :  *  Go  ye  therefore,  and  teach '  {Rev,  Ver,  '  make 
disciples  of)  'all  nations,  BAPTIZING  THEM  IN  THE  Name 
OF  THE  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  ;  teaching  them  to  observe  all  things  whatsoever  I 
have  commanded  you.' 

That  was  the  great  order  given ;  that  was  the 
command  which  had  to  be  obeyed,  whether  at  Batala  or 
elsewhere.  And  however  easy  a  matter  Baptism  in 
England  may  be,  it  is  no  easy  matter  in  the  Panjab  for 
Converts  from  Heathenism  or  from  Muhammadanism. 
It  is  a  step  of  overwhelming  importance.  It  means  leav- 
ing the  world  of  idolatry,  ignorance,  superstition,  behind, 
and  entering  the  Church  of  Christ.  It  also  means  too 
often  leaving  all  things  earthly  that  have  most  been  loved. 
It  means  persecution,  beating,  cruelty,  hard  words  and 
harsher  deeds.  It  means  wives  separated  from  husbands, 
mothers  separated  from  children,  loss  of  money,  loss  of  the 
means  of  livelihood,  danger  not  seldom  to  life  itself  It  is 
the  passing  of  the  Rubicon. 

Again,  in  that  Infant  Church  at  Batala, — or,  one  may 
equally  say,  in  the  Church  at  Amritsar,  and  throughout 
the    Panjab, — we   find   reproduced   the  various   elements 

1  Though  I  speak  in  the  past  tense,  the  same  terms  apply  to  the  present. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  301 

which  existed  in  Early  Church  days.  There  are  strong 
Christians  and  weak  Christians ;  there  are  whole-hearted 
ones  and  wavering  ones  ;  there  are  the  true  and  the  false, 
What  wonder? — when  the  very  foundation-stones  of  the 
Church  of  Christ  included  a  Judas.  Wheat  and  tares  will 
grow  together  until  the  end  ;  and  bad  fish  as  well  as  good 
will  be  caught  in  the  net.  The  Church  planted  in  a  new 
place  is  seldom  long  without  her  Demas,  who  loves  this 
present  heathen  world,  and  goes  back  to  it  again. 

But  for  one  who  is  unfaithful,  for  one  who  turns  his 
back  upon  the  Light,  after  seeming  to  be  indeed  a  Convert, 
there  are  many  who  stand  firm,  persevering  to  the  end, 
despite  difficulties,  discouragements,  and  bitter  oppositions. 
These  brave  brown  brothers  and  sisters  of  ours,  who  are 
still  in  the  fires  of  persecution,  from  which  England  has 
been  so  long  delivered,  deserve  our  warmest  sympathy. 

In  giving  the  story  of  Charlotte  Tucker,  and  of  the 
growth  of  the  Church  at  Batala,  with  which  she  was  so 
intimately  associated,  it  is  of  very  real  importance  to  show 
frankly  both  sides  of  the  picture, — the  dark  side,  as 
well  as  the  bright ;  the  cloudy  as  well  as  the  sunshiny. 
There  were  of  course  disappointments  as  well  as  en- 
couragements. There  were  goings  backward  as  well  as 
pressings  forward.  Missionary  life  is  no  more  one  of 
unbroken  success,  even  at  its  best,  than  any  other  kind  of 
hard-working  life,  with  a  high  aim  before  it ;  and  to 
present  it  as  such,  by  omitting  to  describe  failure  side  by 
side  with  success,  would — and  often  does — produce  only  a 
sense  of  unreality.  The  story  of  the  Church  throughout 
the  ages  has  always  been  a  chequered  tale. 

Hard  as  Miss  Tucker  toiled,  she  had  not  the  delight  of 
seeing  many  individuals  won  to  Christianity  through  her 
own  efforts.  Results  of  what  she  did,  still  more  of  what 
she  was,  were  visible  enough  to  others, — but  rather  in  the 
shape  of  a  general  and  widespread  influence  than  in  the 


302  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

shape  of  conversions  directly  due  to  her  labours.  The 
worth  of  any  work  can  never  be  truly  gauged  by  the 
amount  of  success  which  may  appear  to  follow  within 
a  given  time  ;  and  to  measure  the  extent  or  the  effects  of 
her  loving  influence,  alike  among  younger  Missionaries 
and  among  Indian  Christians,  especially  among  the  boys 
in  the  Baring  High  School,  is  utterly  impossible. 

No  less  impossible  is  it  to  measure  the  results  of  her 
years  of  toilsome  work  in  Zenanas.  Some  here  are  dis- 
posed to  assert  freely  that  she  accomplished  very  little. 
One  Native  Christian,  sending  a  few  slight  memoranda, 
goes  so  far  as  to  say :  '  I  feel  sorry  to  have  to  add  that 
she  signally  failed  as  a  Missionary,  if  by  that  term  is 
meant  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel  to  the  heathen  of 
India.'  A  very  great  deal  more  than  mere  preaching  is, 
of  course,  meant  by  the  term  ;  but  in  any  case  this  would 
be  a  most  rash  judgment  for  any  man  to  venture  to  pass, 
were  he  English  or  Indian.  No  man  could  have  entrance 
into  the  scores  upon  scores  of  Zenanas  which  she  visited, 
to  test  for  himself  the  effects  of  her  work  ;  and  we  all 
know  what  hearsay  evidence  is  worth.  Even  if  he  could 
find  entrance,  he  would  have  no  Divine  power  to  see  into 
the  hearts  of  the  people  there.  The  fact  that  she  herself 
saw  few  results  says  nothing  ;  for  the  best  results  are 
often  slowest  in  appearing.  Judging  from  apparent  results 
is  always  a  defective  and  a  shallow  proceeding. 

From  beginning  to  end  she  never  so  far  conquered  the 
languages  of  North  India  as  to  speak  them  with  ease. 
Grammar  and  construction  she  might  and  did  to  a  con- 
siderable extent  master,  but  colloquial  fluency  was  not 
in  her  case  attainable.  Still,  though  she  never  became 
actually  fluent,  it  is  a  matter  of  unquestionable  fact  that 
she  did  both  understand  and  make  herself  understood, 
despite  occasional  verbal  mistakes.  There  are  testimonies 
from  all  sides  which  abundantly  prove  this. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  303 

Her  mode  of  working  in  Zenanas  was  peculiar  to  herself; 
and  though  she  always  held  to  it,  she  did  not  put  it 
forward  as  a  model  for  every  one  else  to  imitate.  She 
made  no  attempt  at  systematic  instruction,  probably 
feeling  her  knowledge  of  the  languages  unequal  to  the 
task ;  and  this  in  itself  was  a  drawback.  '  In  point  of 
fact,'  as  one  says  who  was  associated  with  her,  '  she  never 
considered  herself  as  a  teacher,  but  rather,  like  St.  John  the 
Baptist,  as  a  "  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness."  Her  visits 
were  almost  always  short,' — though  to  this  rule  there  were 
evidently  exceptions, — '  she  seems  to  have  gone  in,  greeted 
the  people,  given  her  message,  and  taken  courteous  leave. 
She  always  deprecated  any  attempt  to  judge  of  her  work 
by  the  number  of  Zenanas  on  her  visiting  list ;  and  indeed 
it  would  not  be  fair  to  do  so,  as  she  did  not  undertake 
regular  teaching  in  them.' 

Zenana-visiting  was  only  one  portion  of  her  work ; 
regarded  by  herself  as  the  more  important  portion,  but  not 
necessarily  the  more  important  because  she  thought  so. 
We  ourselves  are  poor  judges  of  the  comparative  worth 
of  the  different  things  which  we  have  to  do.  She  was 
also  a  warm  and  true  friend  to  the  Indian  Christians, 
entering  into  their  trials  and  difficulties,  throwing  herself 
into  their  interests,  doing  her  utmost  to  help  them  onward, 
to  lift  them  upward.  In  this  direction  she  had  a  remark- 
able degree  of  influence  ;  and  in  her  intercourse  with  them 
she  was  absolutely  without  pride,  she  was  full  of  kindli- 
ness, consideration,  and  affection. 

With  the  schoolboys,  as  already  seen,  she  was  in  her 
element.  The  old  spirit  of  fun,  the  old  devotion  to  games, 
were  invaluable  here  ;  neither  having  faded  with  increasing 
age.  One  of  her  dharm-nephews.  Dr.  Weitbrecht,  writing 
about  the  High  School  in  Batala,  says : — 

*  From  this  time  for  years  to  come  Miss  Tucker  was  a  mainstay  of 
the  Boys'  Boarding  School,  teaching  the  elder  boys  the  EngHsh 


304  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

language  and  history,  taking  a  motherly  interest  in  all  their  pursuits, 
writing  for  them  Batala  School  songs,  inviting  them  in  the  evenings 
to  little  social  entertainments,  enlivened  by  parlour  games  ;  visiting 
the  sick,  comforting  the  home-sick  new  boy ;  mothering  the  young 
convert,  who  had  been  sent  to  Batala  not  less  for  spiritual  shelter 
than  for  instruction  ;  and  upholding  the  hands  of  workers  in  the 
School  and  Mission  generally ;  besides  carrying  on  without  fail  her 
regular  visits  to  the  town  and  villages,  and  her  literary  work  for 
publication,  both  in  England  and  India.' 

One  of  the  former  schoolboys,  now  a  Native  surgeon  in 
India,  Dr.  I.  U.  Nasir,  writes  on  the  same  subject : — 

'Her  good  influence  on  the  young  minds  cannot  be  overrated. 
Her  Bible  Classes  were  eagerly  looked  for  and  well  attended,— it 
may  be,  for  the  sake  of  lozenges  and  bits  of  cake  which  she  dis- 
tributed at  the  end,  but  also  for  the  interest  she  made  everybody  feel 
in  the  meeting.  She  would  begin  by  asking  the  verse  and  subject  of 
the  morning  sermon,  and  the  various  points  of  interest  worth  re- 
membering. This  led  to  the  habit  of  closely  attending  to  the  sermon. 
.  .  .  Then  every  one  had  a  choice  of  a  hymn  to  be  practised  for  the 
evening  services  of  the  week  ;  a  short  verse  of  the  Bible  was  repeated  ; 
and  Sunday  enigmas  from  the  Bible  were  solved.' 

And  also  with  reference  to  social  week-day  evenings — 

'  She  amused  us  with  stories,  comic  songs,  historical  anecdotes, 
making  anagrams,  giving  riddles  to  be  solved,  and  several  amuse- 
ments of  the  kind.  Many  an  evening  was  spent  in  Miss  Tucker's 
drawing-room,  playing  various  indoor  games,  of  which  chess  and 
word-making  and  word-taking  were  her  favourites.  In  the  latter 
game  she  would  consider  it  a  great  triumph  to  have  made  such  long 
words  as  "Jerusalem  artichoke."  But  she  took  particular  delight  in 
showing  her  old  scrap-album  to  any  one  who  desired  to  see  it.  Many 
an  interesting  incident  was  dropped  in  connection  with  her  relatives, 
as  she  turned  leaf  after  leaf  with  her  old  slender  fingers.  She  never 
got  tired  of  this.  Then  she  would  select  good  scenes  from  Shake- 
speare, whom  she  called  "The  Poet  of  Conscience,"  and  give  us 
lessons  in  recitation  and  acting.' 

Charlotte  Tucker  had  a  profound  belief  in  the  good 
moral  influence  of  Shakespeare.      She   is   said   to   have 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  305 

greatly  wished  that  the  Indians  could  have  the  benefit 
of  Shakespeare  translated  into  their  Native  languages. 

In  addition  to  the  Baring  School  boys,  she  had  a 
neverfailing  interest  in  the  lads  of  the  Mission  Plough 
School,  started  mainly  by  herself,  and  afterwards  endowed 
by  her  with  the  sum  of  ;^50  a  year.  She  constantly 
visited  there,  and  taught  the  scholars,  knowing  many  of 
the  older  boys  by  name,  and  asking  them  from  time  to 
time  to  pay  her  Sunday  afternoon  visits. 

Moreover,  outside  all  these  occupations,  A.  L.  O.  E.  was 
still  an  Author.  For  some  years,  indeed,  after  her  arrival 
in  India  she  wrote  for  India  only,  and  not  especially  for 
England.  When,  however,  it  became  gradually  clear 
that  books  suitable  for  Indian  readers  were  not  adapted 
for  England,  she  found  time  to  accomplish  separate 
volumes  for  home  publication.  Some  would  say  that  her 
writings  for  the  Native  population  of  Hindustan  are  by 
far  the  most  important  part  of  her  whole  Missionary  work. 
By  her  pen  she  could  reach  thousands,  even  tens  of 
thousands,  where  by  her  voice  she  could  reach  at  most 
only  dozens.  Her  tiny  Indian  booklets,  published  by 
the  Christian  Literature  Society  at  very  low  prices, 
are  among  the  most  widely  selling  of  the  Society's  pro- 
ductions. 

It  was  only  by  an  exceedingly  systematic  mode  of  life 
and  endless  toil  that  Miss  Tucker  could  get  through  what 
she  did.  She  was  always  up  very  early, — at  6  A.M.  in 
winter,  at  4J  or  5  A.M.  in  summer, — and  her  day  was 
carefully  apportioned  out.  Six  weeks'  holiday  in  the  year 
was  permitted  by  the  Society  under  which  she  worked, 
and  she  would  seldom  take  more  than  a  month  of  this  in 
the  hottest  weather,  that  she  might  be  able  to  get  away 
for  a  few  days  at  some  other  time,  without  infringing  on 
her  full  ten  months  and  a  half  of  work.  Often  part  of  her 
so-called  holiday  was  spent  in  looking  after  or  in  acting  as 
U 


3o6  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

companion  to  somebody  else, — or  in  undertaking  work 
during  the  absence  of  other  Missionaries  from  their  posts. 
The  marvel  is,  not  that  after  a  few  years  she  should  have 
grown  to  look  older  than  she  was,  but  that  her  health 
could  in  any  degree  have  stood  so  great  and  constant  a 
strain.  Few  people  in  the  prime  of  life  could  have  done 
and  endured  what  she  did  and  endured  in  the  evening  of 
her  days. 

Very  early  after  her  arrival  in  India,  as  stated  in  a 
previous  chapter,  the  Natives  seemed  disposed  to  credit 
Miss  Tucker  with  an  astonishing  number  of  years ;  but 
too  much  must  not  be  thought  of  this.  It  arose  from 
the  fact  that  a  grey-haired  English  lady  out  there  is  a 
complete  rara  avis — a  sight  seldom  to  be  seen.  Miss 
Wauton's  first  impressions  of  her,  jotted  down  as  follows, 
do  not  give  the  impression  of  a  very  old  lady,  dearly  as 
Charlotte  Tucker  loved  to  describe  herself  in  those  terms  : 
'Tall,  slight,  with  lofty  brow,  sparkling  eye,  face  con- 
stantly beaming  with  love  and  intelligence ;  genius  in 
every  look  ;  figure  frail  and  fairy-like,  agile  and  graceful ; 
very  brisk  movements  and  light  tread.'  Hardly  like  a 
hundred  years  old  !  After  a  few  years  had  passed  she  did 
no  doubt  age  rapidly. 

Mention  has  several  times  been  made  of  Miss  Tucker's 
readiness  to  give ;  and  when  one  recalls  the  abounding 
generosity  of  her  father,  not  to  speak  of  the  story  of 
her  grandmother  on  the  Boswell  side  giving  away  to  a 
beggar  the  last  coin  in  the  house,  one  can  hardly  be 
surprised  at  the  generous  tendencies  of  Charlotte  Tucker's 
character.  She  had  the  gift  of  liberality  by  inheritance ; 
and  she  cultivated  her  gift  as  a  matter  of  principle.  Giving 
was  at  all  times  a  real  delight  to  her.  A  quotation  on 
this  subject  from  Mr.  Beutel  may  well  come  in  here  : — 

'Miss  Tucker  was  always  very  liberal.     Wheresoever  there  was 
need  or  distress  that    she    heard   of,   she   gave   substantial  help 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  307 

immediately.  I  well  remember,  for  instance,  after  I  had  taken  over 
charge  of  the  Boys'  Orphanage,  one  time  there  were  between  thirty 
and  forty  boys  to  be  fed  and  clothed,  and  no  money  left  in  hand.  As 
soon  as  Miss  Tucker  heard  of  it,  she  immediately  sent  me  ^10 ;  and 
I  must  confess  such  a  blessing  rested  on  that  money,  that  I  never 
came  into  similar  straits  during  the  twelve  years  that  I  had  charge  of 
the  Boys'  Orphanage. 

'And  again,  before  we  settled  at  Clarkabad,  there  was  a  great 
scarcity  of  grain,  in  consequence  of  the  failure  of  crops  among  the 
Zamindars.  They  had  very  little  to  eat,  and  no  seed-corn  to  sow. 
All  wanted  some  help,  and  I  had  no  money  in  hand.  .  .  .  When  Miss 
Tucker  heard  of  it,  immediately  she  sent  us  Rs.300;  and  our 
greatest  need  was  at  an  end. 

'Again,  in  1889,  when  a  dear  friend  of  mine.  Pastor  and  Teacher 
in  the  United  States  of  North  America,  with  whom  I  had  come 
out  to  India  in  1869,  had  decided  to  return  to  India  as  a  Mis- 
sionary, in  order  to  join  and  to  help  me  in  the  multifarious  work  at 
Clarkabad,  and  he  found  that  the  money  in  hand  was  insufficient  to 
pay  for  his  and  his  family's  voyage  from  Germany,  and  Miss  Tucker 
heard  of  it,  she  immediately  sent  me  ;i^ioo,  with  the  direction  to  for- 
ward that  sum  to  him,  on  condition  that  he  had  not  left  Germany 
again  for  America.  This,  however,  had  already  taken  place  in  the 
meantime,  and  the  money  was  returned  to  her. 

'Again,  in  1892,  after  we  had  returned  to  Kotgur,  where  there  was 
a  great  scarcity  in  the  district,  and  many  poor  people  had  hardly  one 
meal  a  day  to  eat,  and  Miss  Tucker  heard  that  I  gave  relief  work  to 
some  forty  or  fifty  people,  she  sent  me  another  Rs.ioo.' 

These  are  merely  a  few  among  innumerable  instances 
which  might  be  quoted  ;  though  generally  the  gifts  were 
so  quietly  bestowed  that  few  or  none  except  the  recipient 
knew  about  the  matter.  It  was  not,  however,  only  in 
money  that  she  was  generous.  The  very  necessaries  sent 
for  her  own  use,  the  very  clothes  sent  for  her  own 
wear,  would  be  given  freely  away  to  the  first  person 
who  seemed  in  need  of  them.  Mrs.  Hamilton,  learning 
something  of  this,  at  one  time  tried  in  despair  calling  her 
gifts  '  loans,'  in  the  hope  that  they  might  be  thus  secured 
for  Charlotte  Tucker's  own  benefit.  In  later  years,  when 
a  parcel  arrived  from  England,  Miss  Tucker  would  some- 


3o8  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

times  not  allow  her  Missionary  companions  to  see  what  it 
contained,  that  she  might  feel  more  free  to  give  away  as 
she  felt  disposed. 

The  Rev.  Robert  Clark  speaks  of  Miss  Tucker  as  *  an 
English  Christian  Faqir/ — a  curious  use  of  the  term, 
which  he  applies  also  to  one  or  two  other  Missionaries. 
The  original  idea  of  *  Christian  Faqirs,'  sometimes 
referred  to  in  Miss  Tucker's  own  letters,  was  of  Native 
Faqirs,  who,  on  becoming  Christians,  kept  still  to  their 
old  mode  of  life,  going  about  as  before,  teaching  Chris- 
tianity instead  of  false  religions,  and  not  begging  any 
longer,  but  receiving  a  small  sum  for  their  support  from 
Englishmen.  Mr.  Clark,  in  speaking  of  A.  L.  O.  E., 
doubtless  uses  the  word  in  reference  to  her  peculiar  mode 
of  entering  into  Indian  ways,  Indian  customs,  Indian 
thoughts, — as,  for  instance,  sitting  on  the  floor  among 
them,  instead  of  on  a  chair,  travelling  in  an  ekka  like 
them,  and  so  far  as  she  was  able  living  their  life, — as 
well  as  to  the  rigid  simplicity  and  self-denial  which  she 
cultivated. 

After  alluding  to  the  manner  of  her  earlier  English  life, 
and  contrasting  it  with  the  manner  of  her  existence  at 
Batala,  where  '  two  chairs  were  placed  on  two  sides  of  a 
table  in  a  large  and  almost  unfurnished  room,'  Mr.  Clark 
continues  :  '  Miss  Tucker  ate  very  little.  She  always  told 
us  to  tell  her  beforehand  if  we  were  going  to  see  her,  in 
order  that  she  might  have  something  to  place  before  us. 
There  was  then  no  railway ;  and  everything  had  to  be 
brought  from  Amritsar  once  or  twice  a  week.  The  bread 
often  became  very  hard.  She  sometimes  said,  "  Do  try  this 
piece  ;  it  seems  a  little  softer."  Her  guests  were  thinking 
all  the  time  of  her  tender  gums,  and  of  her  teeth  which 
were  no  longer  young.' 

On  first  going  to  Batala  Charlotte  Tucker  had  had  the 
idea  in  her  mind  of  inaugurating  there  a  sort  of  '  Zenana ' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  309 

of  maiden  Missionary  ladies, — a  close  retreat,  from  which 
the  foot  of  Man  should  be  utterly  and  always  excluded. 
Probably  this  was  part  of  her  desire  to  imitate  the  ways 
of  Natives.  Some  judicious  combating  was  needed  to 
break  her  loose  from  it ;  though  when  once  a  gentleman- 
Missionary  had  actually  arrived,  theories  went  down  before 
the  spirit  of  hospitality. 

Once  again  it  should  be  noted,  that  when  in  her  letters 
she  writes  home  enthusiastically  about  all  her  comforts 
and  luxuries,  these  descriptions  must  be  taken  cum  grano 
sails.  She  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  misleading 
anybody ;  but  she  was  very  anxious  to  put  a  brave 
face  on  the  matter ;  moreover,  she  was  a  Missionary  Miss 
Sahiba,  and  she  might  not  grumble.  Everything  was  for 
her  right  just  as  it  was.  But  another  side  to  the  question 
did  exist. 

In  the  year  1879  ^^s.  Elmslie,  being  at  home,  paid  a 
visit  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  ;  and  one  day  she  could  not  help 
remarking,  'When  I  see  how  comfortable  you  are  here, 
and  think  of  your  sister,  it  makes  me  sad.'  Her  tone  was 
almost  reproachful ;  for  she  was  mentally  comparing 
A.  L.  O.  E.'s  barely  furnished  rooms  with  the  abundance 
of  comforts  in  this  home.  Evidently  she  thought  Miss 
Tucker  badly  off,  and  wondered  why  her  friends  did  not 
assist  her  more.  Explanations  naturally  followed  ;  and 
when  she  learnt  the  true  state  of  the  case,  when  she  heard 
the  amount  of  Charlotte  Tucker's  comfortable  little  income, 
she  was  astonished.  The  manner  of  life  steadily  followed 
out  was,  in  fact,  no  matter  of  necessity,  but  purely  a 
matter  of  principle.  Miss  Tucker  counted  a  life  of  rigid 
simplicity  worthier  her  vocation  as  a  Missionary  than 
one  of  greater  ease  could  have  been.  She  therefore  kept 
to  a  certain  sum  of  money  yearly  for  her  own  expenses, 
while  giving  much  away  in  addition ;  she  made  her  clothes 
last  as  long  as  it  was  possible  for  them  to  hold  together ; 


310  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

she  had  hardly  any  furniture  in  her  rooms  ;  and  she  refused 
all  luxuries,  including  some  things  which  in  India  are 
commonly  reckoned  not  luxuries,  but  absolute  necessaries. 

The  following  particulars  have  been  kindly  supplied  to 
me  by  Miss  Wauton  and  others. 

Her  style  of  living,  at  all  times  extremely  simple,  was 
particularly  so  at  the  time  that  she  shared  a  home  with 
Mr.  Baring.  She  scarcely,  indeed,  allowed  herself  even  the 
most  ordinary  comforts.  Her  bedroom  furniture  consisted 
of  a  native  bedstead,  a  small  table,  a  wardrobe  and  two 
chairs,  with  a  piece  of  thin  matting  on  the  floor,  and 
one  or  two  thin  '  durries.'  ^  Always  an  early  riser.  Miss 
Tucker  never  liked  her  Ayah  to  find  her  still  in  bed. 
When  she  first  got  up,  she  used  to  heat  a  cup  of  cocoa 
with  her  little  etna,  for  her  '  chhoti  hazari.'  ^  Miss  Tucker 
always  disliked  very  much  being  waited  on.  and  preferred 
to  do  things  for  herself  She  treated  the  servants  very 
courteously,  always  addressing  the  Ayah  as  '  Bibi  ji ' ;  and 
any  little  thing  offered  to  her  at  table  was  accepted  with 
a  *  Thank  you,'  or  declined  with  a  '  No,  thank  you,'  spoken 
in  English,  as  there  is  in  Hindustani  no  equivalent  for  the 
expression  of  gratitude. 

Together  with  her  marvellous  activity  of  mind  and  of 
body  was  seen  a  wonderful  amount  of  patience  under 
suffering  or  discomfort.  In  the  very  hot  weather  she 
would  say  to  her  companions,  '  Let  me  be  the  first  to  com- 
plain of  the  heat ' ; — and  of  course  she  never  did  complain. 
She  used  to  ascribe  her  good  health  in  Batala  to  the 
absence  there  of  three  things,  generally  counted  indispens- 
able by  Europeans  in  India.  She  had,  first,  no  doctor ; 
she  had,  second,  no  gain\  she  had,  third,  no  ice.  The  want 
of  the  latter  must  have  been  a  serious  deprivation.  The 
lack  of  a  gari,  or  carriage,  was^  supplied  by  her  duli,  by  the 
native  ekka,  and  by  her  own  walking-powers.      As  for 

1  Cotton  mats.  2  Early  breakfast. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  311 

doctors, — she  had,  when  ill,  to  go  to  them,  like  other 
people,  and  to  be  grateful  for  their  help.  Doctors  were 
not,  however,  favourites  with  A.  L.  O.  E.  She  was  perhaps 
a  little  hard  upon  them ;  since,  on  the  one  hand,  she 
professed  not  to  trust  their  skill ;  and  on  the  other  hand, 
she  looked  upon  them  as  rather  cruel  than  kind,  in  trying 
to  keep  her  longer  upon  Earth,  away  from  the  Home 
where  she  wished  to  be. 
Miss  Wauton  says  : — 

*A11  she  had  was  put  at  the  disposal  of  others.  Every  book 
sent  out  was  lent  round  to  the  different  Mission  circles,  or  in  any 
place  where  it  might  give  pleasure  or  profit.  She  always  had  some 
interesting  book  on  hand,  and  kept  her  mind  richly  stored  with 
knowledge,  being  specially  fond  of  history.  She  allowed  me  once 
to  be  present  when  giving  an  English  History  lesson  to  a  class  of 
Baring  High  School  boys.  I  could  have  wished  myself  one  of  them, 
to  have  had  such  teaching  constantly  !  She  was  very  independent  of 
intercourse  with  other  minds,  yet  thoroughly  enjoyed  social  pleasures. 
I  never  saw  any  one  so  carry  out  the  precept — "  Rejoice  with  them  that 
do  rejoice."  Nowhere  did  she  seem  so  much  at  home  as  at  the 
wedding-feast ;  and  no  wedding-party  seemed  complete  without  her.' 

But  though  she  could  be  the  life  and  soul  of  a  wedding 
feast — perhaps  especially  of  a  Native  wedding  feast, — Miss 
Tucker  was  not  in  all  cases  an  advocate  of  marriage  The 
Rev.  Robert  Clark  speaks  of  her  as — 'jealous  of  the 
marriage  of  any  of  our  Lady  Missionaries,  especially  to 
those  gentlemen  who  were,  as  she  said,  "  outside  of  the 
family." '  He  adds :  '  In  her  verses  on  the  duties  and 
qualifications  of  ladies  for  Missionary  work  in  India,  the 
last  couplet  was,  I  think,  as  follows  : — 

"The  Mission  Miss  Sahiba  must  single  remain. 
Or  else  she'll  step  out  of  her  proper  domain." 

A  friend  who  married  one  of  our  Missionary  ladies,  and 
who  was  nominally  outside  the  Mission  family,  but  who 
was  and  still  is  one  of  us,  added  the  words — 

"  And  never  will  be  a  Miss  Sahiba  again  1 " ' 


312  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

This  quotation  from  Mr.  Clark  lands  us  in  another  sub- 
ject, and  one  of  no  small  importance.  Charlotte  Tucker, 
going  as  she  did  to  India  when  well  on  in  middle  life, 
looked  upon  herself  as  a  possible  Pioneer,  a  possible 
example  to  others,  and  hoped  that  many  more  might  be 
led  to  do  the  same.  But  she  was  never  under  the  delusion 
that  anybody  and  everybody  is  fitted  for  a  Missionary 
life, — even  granting  the  spiritual  adaptedness.  There  must 
be  of  course  whole-hearted  devotion  to  Christ,  whole- 
hearted love  to  man,  and  whole-hearted  self-abnegation  ; 
but  there  must  also  be  certain  natural  capabilities,  certain 
conditions  of  health  and  vigour.  Beyond  all,  there  must 
be  the  Divine  call  to  work  in  the  Mission-fields.  All  this 
Charlotte  Tucker  felt  with  increasing  earnestness  as  years 
went  on ;  and  she  was  often  at  pains  to  explain  the  kind 
of  workers  wanted  out  there,  to  warn  against  the  kind  of 
workers  not  wanted. 

Before  giving  extracts  from  the  correspondence  of  1879, 
two  or  three  quotations  of  different  dates  shall  be  given 
on  this  subject,  beginning  with  a  letter  written  to  a  lady 
who  had  thoughts  of  offering  herself: — 

'Bat ALA,  Dec.  3,  1878. 

'  My  dear  Madam, — Hearing  that  you  have  some  idea  of  giving 
yourself  to  Mission  work  in  India,  I  think  that  you  may  like  to  hear 
the  impressions  of  one  who— after  dear  ones  no  longer  required  her 
care — gave  herself  to  that  work. 

'  I  have  now  been  for  three  years  in  India,  and  I  have  never  for 
one  minute  regretted  coming.  I  do  sometimes  feel  that  there  is  need 
of  patience  ;  one  has  a  number  of  petty  inconveniences  and  annoy- 
ances, from  which  we  are  guarded  in  England.  Whoever  comes  out 
as  a  Missionary  should  pray  for  a  brave,  patient,  cheerful  spirit,  and  a 
submissive  will.  But  if  these  be  granted,  I  should  say  that  the 
Missionary  life  is  a  very  happy  one. 

'  There  is  a  great  charm  in  being  carried  back  to  the  days  of  the 
Apostles  ;  for  in  an  isolated  station,  like  Batala  or  Kulu,  there  is  much 
to  remind  one  of  the  First  Century.  Then  there  is  joy  in  the  hope 
that  one  is  putting  out  the  intrusted  talents— be  they  few  or  many— 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  313 

to  the  best  interest.  One's  time,  one's  money,  one's  efforts,  seem  to 
go  further  here.  I  have  often  thought,  "  India  is  the  place  to  make 
the  One  talent — Ten."   The  work  is  so  very  great,  the  labourers  so  fev^ ! 

'There  is  another  thing  which  has  intensely  sweetened  my 
Missionary  life.  It  is  finding  myself  a  member  of  the  Missionary 
Family.  It  has  been  said  that  there  are  no  friendships  like  those 
made  in  youth.  It  has  not  been  my  experience.  I  have  no  dearer 
friendships  than  those  made  in  advanced  years.  God  has  given  me 
a  number  of  new  Relatives  (I  call  them  dharm  nephews  and  nieces), 
and  the  tie  is  as  real  as  that  made  by  blood-relationship.  .  .  . 

'  In  coming  out  as  a  Missionary,  one  has  to  devote  oneself  to  duties 
which  are  sometimes  what  would  be  called  drudgery,  and  leave  the 
care  of  one's  happiness  to  the  Divine  Master,  whom  we  attempt  to 
serve.     He  takes  far  better  care  of  our  happiness  than  we  can, 

'Allow  me,  dear  Madam,  to  add  another  word.  If  you  come  out, 
you  should  start  soon^  to  avoid  the  heat  of  the  Red  Sea.  As  regards 
outfit,  you  would  find  a  tin-bath,  in  a  basket-case,  to  be  used  in 
travelling  as  a  trunk,  a  great  comfort  here.  It  is  well  to  bring  out  a 
few  pictures  and  pretty  things  ;  and,  if  you  are  musical,  your 
instrument.  Medicines  are  very  useful.  Warm  clothes  are  requisite, 
as  well  as  light  ones.  Cotton  gloves  are  a  comfort  in  the  season  when 
kid  shrivels  and  dries. 

'  Not  without  a  hope  that  I  may  one  day  welcome  you  as  a  Sister- 
worker,  I  remain,  dear  Madam,  yours  very  sincerely,    C.  M.  Tucker.' 

In  a  paper  written  some  few  years  later  by  A.  L.  O.  E., 
containing  a  list  of  things  needed  to  make  a  good  and 
serviceable  Missionary,  the  following  are  enumerated — as 
usual,  symbolically  expressed  : — 

'  We  need  not  dwell  on  the  necessity  of  Faith  and  Love,  which  may 
be  represented  as  Gold.  To  start  without  these  would  be  presumption 
worse  than  folly.  .  .  .  And  so  with  the  only  less  valuable  metal,  Silver 
— Knowledge.     It  is  self-evident  that  such  is  required.  .  .  . 

'And  a  great  deal  of  Steel  is  needed  .  .  .  some  physical,  and, 
above  all,  moral  Courage  is  required.  Nervous  weakness  of  character 
is  undesirable  at  home  ;  it  would  be  a  grievous  misfortune  in  India. 
...  A  Missionary  should  claim  the  Christian's  privilege  of  fearing 
no  evil.  .  .  . 

'  The  old  saying  is,  Nothing  like  leather. .  .  .  What  I  would  symbolise 
by  Leather  is  a  capacity  for  encountering  drudgery,  something  that 
will  bear  the  strain  of  daily  and  often  monotonous  work.  .  .  .  Give  us 


314  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

tough  leather,  such  as  harness  and  straps  are  made  of ;  no  romantic 
sentimentality,  but  steady,  resolute  Perseverance. 

'Another  useful  article  is  a  Letter-weigher^  by  which  I  would 
represent  Sound  Judgment.  .  .  .  There  is  special  experience  required 
for  work  in  a  foreign  land.  It  has  often  occurred  to  my  mind  what  a 
blessing  in  disguise  it  is  that  Missionaries  have  to  toil  to  acquire  a 
new  language  ;  such  delay  giving  them  time  to  learn  something  of 
Native  character,  manners,  and  ideas.  If  language  came  by  intuition, 
we  should  make  many  more  blunders  in  other  things  than  we  do  now; 
and  such  blunders  are  numerous  enough  already.  .  .  . 

'Another  necessary  must  not  be  forgotten  —  a  White-covered 
Umbrella^  representing  Prudence  regarding  health.  The  white  cover 
is  specially  mentioned,  symbolising  the  pure  desire  to  economise 
health  for  the  sake  of  God's  cause,  without  which  mere  prudence 
would  be  of  very  minor  value.  .  . 

'  Only  one  more  necessary  I  would  mention,  and  it  may  provoke  a 
smile  :  Be  sure  to  bring  a  box  of  Salve,  and  not  a  very  small  one 
either.  When  maidens  of  different  antecedents,  rank,  age,  tempera- 
ment, and — in  minor  matters — opinions,  are  brought  together  in 
closest  proximity,  in  a  climate  which  tries  the  temper,  there  is  at 
least  a  possibility  of  some  slight  rubs,  which  without  the  soothing 
ointment  brought  by  the  Peacemaker  may  even  develop  into  sores.' 

TO 

'Feb.  19,  1879. 

'  I  hope  that  good  Miss  will  7tot  leave  her  present  field  of 

great  usefulness  for  India.  It  is  a  sad  mistake  for  those  with  her 
delicacy  of  head  to  come  out  to  the  Panjab.  "  Panjab  heads  "  are 
proverbial.  Our  band  is  too  small  for  any  to  be  told  off  as  nurses. 
Very  delicate  workers  should  not  come  out  to  this  trying  climate. 
For  those  whose  constitutions  are  fitted  for  it,  the  Panjab  is  a  glorious 
field.  It  is  a  place  where  the  one  talent  may  become  ten.  All  sorts 
of  gifts  come  into  use  ;  aptitude  in  buying  and  selling  ;  engineering 
skill ;  love  of  music  ;  a  mechanical  turn,  etc.,  may  be  turned  to 
such  valuable  account. 

'  It  is  not  a  mere  matter  of  preaching  to  the  heathen.  An  Infant 
Church  has  to  be  built  up  ;  openings  are  to  be  made  for  converts, 
that  they  may  earn  their  bread  ;  churches  have  to  be  raised  with  small 
funds  and  no  architects,  etc.  A  man  who  can  carpenter,  garden,  or 
put  in  panes  of  glass,  may  find  his  knowledge  most  useful.  A  bold 
rider,  a  good  shot,  is  at  an  advantage  here. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  315 

*  Missionary  life  is  not  just  like  what  one  fancies  it  in  England. 
We  do  not  want  bookworms  so  much  as  active,  intelligent,  devoted 
men,  who  can  turn  their  hands  to  anything,  and  who,  in  addition  to 
Missionary  zeal,   have  plenty  of  common  sense.      God  grant  that 

Cambridge  may  send  us  many  such  !      Mr.  is  one  ;   a  very 

valuable  man,  though  not  gifted  with  eloquence,  nor  quick  at  learning 
languages.  He  has  a  clear  sound  judgment,  and  a  power  of  adapting 
himself  to  varying  circumstances,  and  of  undergoing  drudgery.' 

TO   MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

''March  24,  1879. 
'  No,  my  dearest  Leila,  I  could  not  in  conscience  urge  poor  dear 

to  come  out  here.    It  would  be  cruel.    Any  one  who  in  England 

suffers  from  headache,  liver,  back,  and  uneven  spirits,  I  would  rather 
entreat  to  avoid  the  Panjab.  .  .  .  She  would  be  one  of  the  choice 
delicate  palfreys,  yoked  to  artillery,  who  break  down  and  give  extra 
work  to  the  already  fully-taxed  horses.  If  you  only  knew  what  the 
illnesses  of  those  who  ought  never  to  have  come  out  have  cost  others 
as  well  as  themselves  !  .  .  .  The  Lord  does  not  call  all  His  children 
to  India.  There  ought  to  be  a  certain  fitness  of  constitution  to  dwell 
in  a  fever-land.  I  am  so  thankful  that  I  am  not  constitutionally 
liable  to  headache,  and  that  fever  does  not  naturally  cling  to  me. 
But  I  walk  warily,  as  one  in  an  enemy's  country.' 

TO  W.    F.   T.    HAMILTON. 

''May  20  [probably  1879). 
'  Your  dear  Mother  sends  me  delightful  accounts  of  the  devotion  of 
some  of  the  Cambridge  men,  and  their  readiness  to  engage  in 
Missionary  work,  if  they  saw  the  way  clear.  Now,  dearest  Fred, 
could  there  be  a  clearer  opening  than  at  Batala  for  an  earnest 
Christian  man,  whether  in  Orders  or  not  ?  I  am  not  thinking  of  you, 
for  I  would  not  have  any  one  subject  to  headaches  come  to  this 
feverish  land  ;  but  I  am  thinking  of  your  brother  collegians.  Batala, 
for  evangelisation,  is  a  very  central  point ;  no  end  of  work  might  be 
done  ;  and  it  is  a  hopeful  place.  .  .  . 

'  But  I  will  be  more  minute  in  particulars.  ...  I  am  not  writing 
of  one  who  wishes  to  become  one  of  the  regular  salaried  Missionaries 
of  our  Society ;  but  of  one  who  has  the  means  to  be  an  Honorary 
worker.  Say  he  has  an  income  of  ^100.  He  would  find  at  Batala 
'  a  home^ — not  a  very  luxurious  one,  but  quite  enough  so  for  a 
Missionary.     His  ;^ioo  would  be  enough  for  all  his  personal  wants. 


3i6  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

unless  he  travelled  much ;  and  he  might  keep  a  little  horse,  unless, 

like ,  he  preferred  spending  his  extra  rupees  on  something  else. 

He  could  at  once  help  with  English  classes,  if  he  chose  to  do  so, 
and  in  the  meantime  learn  the  language.  ...  If  he  had  a  taste  for 
shooting  and  fishing,  he  would  find  means  of  gratifying  it ;  and  if  he 
were  a  good  cricketer,  it  would  add  to  his  influence  over  our  boys.  If 
he  had  any  architectural  skill,  he  would  help  us  to  build  our  church. 
If  he  were  musical,  it  would  be  a  great  advantage.  He  might  lead  a 
very  happy  life,  and  an  exceedingly  useful  one.  We  are  in  such 
want  of  7nen  ;  not  mere  bookworms,  but  earnest,  devoted,  bright, 
active  Christians,  who  can  turn  their  hands  to  everything,  and  help 
to  mould  the  minds  of  our  rising  generation.  We  want  more  St. 
Pauls!' 

This  chapter  can  hardly  be  better  closed  than  by 
quoting  Miss  Tucker's  descriptive  lines  as  to  the  necessary 
qualifications  for  a  '  Mission  Miss  Sahiba,'  already  alluded 
to.  They  were  written  at  Amritsar,  as  early  as  the  year 
1876:— 

RULES   AND    REGULATIONS 

'  The  Mission  Miss  Sahibas  must  never  complain  ; 
The  Mission  Miss  Sahibas  must  temper  restrain — 
When  "  sust  "  ^  pankah-wala  won't  pull  at  the  cane  ; 
Must  never  be  fanciful,  foolish,  or  vain. 

'  The  Mission  Miss  Sahiba  in  dress  must  be  plain  ; 
The  Mission  Miss  Sahibas  must  furnish  their  brain, — 
Of  two  or  three  languages  knowledge  obtain, — 
When  weary  and  puzzled,  must  try,  try  again  ; 
We  cannot  learn  grammar  by  leger  de  main. 

'  The  Mission  Miss  Sahiba  must  know  every  lane, 
Climb  ladder-like  stairs,  without  fearing  a  sprain  ; 
The  Mission  Miss  Sahibas  must  speak  very  plain, 
Must  rebuke  and  encourage,  must  teach  and  explain  ; 
The  Mission  Miss  Sahibas  must  grasp  well  the  rein  ; 
The  Mission  Miss  Sahibas  must  not  look  for  gain, 
Though  doctoring  sick  folk,  like  Jenner  or  Quain. 

1  Idle. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  317 

*  Let  Mission  Miss  Sahibas  from  late  hours  refrain, 
For  they  must  rise  early,  and  bear  a  hard  strain, 
Like  vigorous  cart-horses,  drawing  a  wain, 
That  pull  well  together,  when  yoked  twain  and  twain. 
The  Mission  Miss  Sahibas  must  work  might  and  main. 
And  therefore  good  nourishment  should  not  disdain, — 
Or  danger  is  great  of  their  going  insane. 

'The  Mission  Miss  Sahibas  must  topis  ^  retain, 
Must  guard  against  sunstroke,  to  health  such  a  bane  ; 
And  midst  frogs  and  mosquitoes  must  patient  remain, 
Yes,  e'en  when  tormented,  must  smile  through  their  pain  ; 
And,  with  courage  like  that  of  the  knights  of  Charlemagne, 
By  Mission  Miss  Sahibas  snakes  should  be  slain. 

'  The  Mission  Miss  Sahibas  should  sow  well  the  grain, 
Dark  babies  should  fondle,  dark  women  should  train, 
And  Bibis  and  Begums  at  times  entertain  ; 
Should  smile  and  should  soothe,  but  not  flatter  or  feign  ; 
And  to  usefulness  thus  they  may  hope  to  attain. 

'  N.B. — Let  all  Mission  Miss  Sahibas  single  remain, — 

If  they  don't,  they  step  out  of  their  proper  domain, — 
And  can  never  be  Mission  Miss  Sahibas  again  ! ' 

1  Hats. 


CHAPTER    IX 

A.D.   1879 

THE   CHURCH  AT   BATALA 

The  annals  of  1879  ^.re  as  usual  very  abundant,  and  space 
can  only  be  found  for  a  limited  selection  of  extracts. 
Miss  Tucker  was  much  distressed  about  the  Afghan  war ; 
not  because  of  any  possible  peril  or  discomfort  to  herself, 
but  because  her  judgment  disapproved  of  it  as  a  whole, 
and  also  because  of  the  sufferings  which  she  knew  it  must 
entail  upon  the  soldiers. 

While  the  larger  number  of  extracts  given  are,  throughout 
her  Indian  career,  in  reference  to  the  work  going  on  round 
about  her,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  her  love  for 
relatives  and  old  friends,  or  her  interest  in  all  that  con- 
cerned them,  ever  for  a  moment  waned.  The  letters  teem 
with  loving  words  and  messages  ;  and  every  item  of  news 
from  England  is  received  with  delight.  Her  affections 
seem  to  have  grown  stronger  rather  than  weaker,  through 
long  separation. 

'  Batala,  y<2//.  16,  1879. — Mine  own  Laura,  how  could  you  write 
regarding  the  Httle  meeting,  at  which  you  and  sweet  Margaret  were, 
"  Would  you  not  like  to  be  in  my  shoes  at  the  time,  and  hold  your 
darling  friend  in  your  arms?"  I  would  much  rather  have  been  in 
Margarefs  shoes,  and  have  held  some  one  else  in  my  arms, — only  for 
the  wrench  that  would  have  followed !  But  O  love,  we  are 
travelling  in  the  same  train,  only  in  different  carriages ;  and  I  am 
thankful  that  though  we  cannot  see  each  other,  we  can  as  it  were 
talk  to  each  other  out  of  the  windows.    What  a  blessing  the  Post  is ! ' 

318 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  319 

TO  MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

^■Jan.  20,  1879. 

'  Ours  is  not  to  be  a  village  church,  dear,  but  one  in  a  city  of  more 
than  25,000  inhabitants,  where  there  are  graceful  mosques,  a  large 
idol-temple,  etc.  A  mere  mud  shed  would  be  quite  out  of  character  ; 
our  present  room  in  a  schoolhouse  would  be  better  than  that.  There 
is  considerable  difficulty  and  expense  in  buying  a  site.    It  ought  to  be 

171  the  city.     I  have  written  to  dear about  one  which  Mr.  Baring 

has  seen,  but  it  is  very  doubtful  whether  the  place  can  be  purchased. 

'  My  nephew  and  I  are  both  economical,  and  I  think  that  you  and 
dear  Fred  may  depend  on  money  not  being  wasted  in  useless 
decorations.  But  the  sacred  edifice  ought  to  be  of  brick,  and  pretty 
strong,  not  only  to  endure  for  years,  but  also  to  keep  out  the  heat.  A 
tiny  church  would  not  cost  much  ;  one  so  small  that  beams  could 
reach  from  side  to  side.  But  if  our  Church  is  to  go  on  growing,  as 
we  hope  and  pray  that  it  may,  what  would  be  the  advantage  of  having 
a  tiny  chapel,  which  would  not  comfortably  accommodate  ourselves 
in  a  fiery  climate,  and  in  which  there  would  be  no  room  at  all  for 
heathen  spectators?  We  should  be  wanting  a  second \  and  how 
could  we  procure  a  second  clergyman?  Please  thank  dear  Fred 
very,  very  much  for  his  kindness  in  collecting,  and  assure  him  that 
we  wish  to  make  the  money  go  as  far  as  possible.' 

TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

''Jan.  31. — I  sometimes  think  that  it  is  well  for  me  that  I  have  no 

one  to  carry  cushions  after  me, — as  the  dear  A s  made  the  boys 

do  in  George  Square, — or  to  watch  my  face  to  see  if  I  look  pale. 
I  have  been  enabled  to  make  efforts,  for  which  I  might  not  have 
thought  my  frame  capable,  and  have  kept  my  health  wonderfully. 

'  This  is  the  eighth  day  that  I  have  not  seen  an  English  person  ! 
Mera  Bhatija  has  been  away  on  duty  ;  but  I  hope  to  have  him  back 
to-morrow.  I  shall  not  be  sorry  to  see  him  again  ;  we  are  becoming 
more  and  more  like  real  Aunt  and  Nephew.  He  wanted  me  to  go  to 
Amritsar  during  his  needful  absence  ;  but  there  were  strong  reasons 
against  that.  .  .  . 

'  As  regards  health,  we  are  between  Scylla  and  Charybdis.  People 
in  India  cannot  help  thinking  a  great  deal  about  it,  because  five 
minutes'  carelessness  may  wreck  health  for  life  ;  yet  it  is  a  great 
matter  for  us,  if  possible,  to  keep  from  sinking  to  the  languid 
"  cannot-do-anything  "  point.  To  rest  there  is  something  like  letting 
the  head  go  under  water.  I  often  think  of  dear  Uncle  Tom's 
expression,—  "  Never  say  die  ! " ' 


320  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

TO  MRS.  E 

^  Feb.  4,  1879. 

'  My  nephew,  the  Rev.  F.  Baring,  has  organised  Httle  reHef  works  ; 
for,  owing  to  drought,  and  partly  to  the  war,  there  is  much  distress  in 
Batala.  If  you  were  here,  dear  Aunt,  it  would  interest  you  to  walk 
about,  leaning  on  my  arm,  and  see  poor  men  in  their  rags,  women 
and  children,  carrying  baskets  of  earth  on  their  heads,  to  fill  up  that 
part  of  the  tank  which  is  nearest  to  the  house.  It  is  a  good  thing  for 
us,  but  a  better  thing  for  the  poor  folk,  who  are  thankful  to  earn  their 
pice.  Mr.  Baring  intends  also  to  give  poor  women  in  the  city 
employment  in  spinning,  and  to  get  a  Christian  native  weaver  to 
make  the  cotton  into  towels  or  napkins.  .  .  . 

'  Both  my  nephews,  Mr.  Bateman  and  Mr,  Barings  are  very  clever 
in  finding  ways  to  start  the  Converts  in  life,  giving  them  means  of 
earning  an  honest  livelihood.  One  fine  lad  has  a  place  in  the  Woods 
and  Forests  Department ;  another  is  learning  work  in  the  Press  ;  a 
third  is  to  be  employed  in  a  religious  book-shop  ;  a  fourth  convert  is 
doing  profitable  business  as  a  small  wood-merchant.  Another,  who 
has  a  Httle  money  of  his  own,  intends  to  set  up  a  small  shop  in  his 
own  village.  This  is  rather  brave,  as,  only  a  month  or  two  ago,  he 
was  driven  forth  by  his  own  family  with  threats  and  curses.  It 
seems  to  me  that  a  very  important  part  of  a  Missionary's  work  is  to 
watch  over  converts  after  Baptism,  both  as  regards  body  and  soul. 
In  the  Church,  in  the  time  of  the  Apostles,  converts  were  not  left 
to  starve.  They  must  not  be  idle,  but  they  must  have  the  means 
of  earning  their  bread.  We  also  greatly  wish  that  every  Native 
convert  should  feel  it  to  be  his  or  her  work  to  bring  in  others  to 
Christ.  .  .  . 

'  We  intend  to  have  a  Fancy  Fair  in  April,  for  the  Church  which 
we  hope  to  build ;  but  the  great  puzzle  will  be  to  find  buyers, — Mr. 
Baring  and  myself  being  the  only  white  folk  in  Batala,  and  Natives 
generally  disliking  to  spend  money,  except  on  marriages,  funerals, 
jewels,  and  sweetmeats.' 

TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

^  March  3. — I  have  another  dear  letter,  to-day  received,  to  thank 
you  for.  You  need  take  no  thought,  love,  about  where  I  sit.  W^e  have 
benches  in  chapel ;  and  as  for  my  duli — to  sit  on  its  flat  floor  does 
not  hurt  me  in  the  least.  I  dare  say  that  dear  E.  never  got  into 
the  way  of  it ;  but  I  take  to  it  as  a  duck  to  the  water.  The  only 
difficulty  is  the  scrambling  out  of  the  box ;  but  this  does  me  no 
harm  ;   it  is  wholesome  exercise.     As  for  a  carriage,  it  would  be 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  321 

useless  in  Batala.     I  was  regularly  blocked  in  to-day,  even  in  my 
tiny  duli.     The  streets  are  so  narrow  and  so  crowded.  .  .  .' 

TO  W.  F.  T.  HAMILTON. 

'■March  17. 

'  Our  saintly  Bishop,  Dr.  French,  is  now  our  guest.  .  .  .  We  are 
having  such  an  interesting  time,  a  heart-warming  time  !  There  is  to 
be  a  Confirmation  to-morrow  ;  and  oh,  through  what  fiery  trials  some 
of  the  dear  candidates  have  come  !  There  is  B — n,  .  .  .  the  first 
man  who  dared  to  be  baptized  in  bigoted  Batala.  His  Baptism 
cost  him  wife  and  child.  There  is  the  thin,  worn  B.  D.,  with  his 
hair  turning  grey ;  the  only  Christian  in  his  village,  he  whom  his 
own  mother  has  reviled.  .  .  .  There  is  the  aged  Faqir  and  his 
stalwart  sons, — but  I  need  not  enumerate  all.  I  have  told  you 
enough  to  show  what  peculiar  features  of  interest  may  attend  a 
Confirmation  in  India, — especially  perhaps  in  so  thoroughly  Oriental 
a  place  as  this,  where  there  are  no  Europeans  at  all  but  my  nephew 
and  myself 

'  Ours  is  such  a  dear  little  Church, — I  am  not  aware  that  there  is 
one  really  black  sheep  in  it,  though  there  are  some  infirm  ones.  Ten 
women  are  to  receive  Confirmation.  I  think  that  all  but  perhaps  one 
have  been  converts  from  Muhammadanism  or  Hinduism.  I  do  not 
mean  to  say  that  they  are  all  Batala  people  ;  but  Batala  is  a  genial 
place  to  which  converts  seem  drawn. 

'  To-morrow,  after  Confirmation,  we  hope  to  spread,  not  the  board 
but  \\\^fioor^  for  a  goodly  number  of  welcome  guests,  more  even  than 
we  had  at  Christmas.  One  feels  very  thankful  to  see  such  a  nice 
large  Christian  family.  .  .  .  Of  course  some  Stations  are  more  trying  to 
faith ;  some  of  God's  servants  have  to  toil  for  years,  and  apparently 
catch  nothing ;  but  about  here  in  various  directions  one  hears  of 
converts  and  inquirers.  There  is  feeling  of  life  stirring  among  the 
dry  bones.' 

TO   MISS    'LEILA'  HAMILTON. 

'April  I,  1879. 
'  Do  you  ever  enter  Trinity  Church  ?  ^  Probably  not,  it  is  so  far 
from  you.  To  your  sweet  Mother  and  myself  many  memories  are 
connected  with  it.  Weddings  and  Christenings, — the  overflowing 
pew,— the  corner  of  it  where  we  used  to  see  the  dear  bald  head  of  our 
venerated  Father !  .  .  . 

^  Marylebone. 
X 


322  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

'  We  have  a  dear  young  convert  from  a  village,  who,  like  others, 
finds  in  Batala  a  refuge.  A  simple  guileless  lad,  who  likes  to 
come,  as  dear  U.  did,  to  sit  at  one's  feet,  and  have  a  talk  about  God's 
Word.  .  .  .  He  does  not  know  much,  but  enough  to  have  enabled 
the  lad  to  resist  temptation  and  endure  persecution.  ...  I  wish  that 

dear would  take  up  the  subject  oi  portable  Bibles  in  Persian 

Urdu.  Even  the  children  of  clever  Christian  parents  are  apt  to  be 
sadly  ignorant  of  Old  Testament  Scriptures.  How  much  would 
English  school-children  know  of  them,  if  they  could  only  buy  Bibles 
in  three  (Persian  Urdu)  large  volumes, — or  in  one  (Arabic  Urdu), 
very  large  and  heavy  ? 

'  It  is  not  only  the  expense  but  the  extreme  inconvenience  of  such 
bulky  books  that  must  be  considered.  Mera  Bhatija  has  English 
Urdu  Bibles  for  his  boys,  but  some  read  them  with  difficulty ;  and 
we  cannot  expect  a  nation  to  adopt  a  new  type  utterly  different  from 
its  own.  There  is  a  beautifully  written  New  Testament  in  Persian 
Urdu  .  .  .  light,  easily  carried  about,  and  costing  only  half  a  rupee. 
This  is  a  great  boon  ;  but  we  want  the  Old  Testament  Scriptures.  .  .  . 
They  are  at  present  almost  shut  out  from  the  people.  Our  great 
want  is  a  complete  Bible,  as  delicately  written  out,  and  on  as  fine 
light  paper,  as  the  New  Testament,  and  not  very  expensive.  Most 
of  the  Natives  are  so  very  poor.  I  can  scarcely  imagine  how  they 
manage  to  live.' 

TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

'Batala,  April  20,  1879. 

'  Your  dear,  sweet  letter  received  to-day  was  like  a  nice  little  visit 
to  me  in  my  comparative  loneliness.  Mera  Bhatija  and  Babu  Singha 
are  both  away  at  Amritsar.  ...  If,  when  proposing  to  come  out,  I 
could  have  been  told  that  I  should  be  all  alone  in  a  house  with 
thirteen  Native  boys, — my  Ayah  is  absent  from  late  illness, — I  should 
have  been  startled,  perhaps  half-frightened.  But  these  dear  fellows 
do  not  worry  me  at  all.  I  asked  one  of  them  yesterday:  "If  I 
were  ill,  which  of  you  would  nurse  me  ? "  "  All  of  us,"  was  the 
reply.  I  thought  that  thirteen  boys  would  be  too  much  for  a  sick- 
room ;  so — "  We  would  take  it  in  turns,"  was  the  second  answer.  .  .  . 

'  Many  thanks,  love,  for  the  two  copies  of  the  nice  work  on 
Prophecies  in  the  Old  Testament.  It  ought  to  convince  any  candid 
mind.  ...  It  might  be  valuable  to  English-reading  Muhammadans. 
But  it  is  not  at  all  necessary  with  them  to  avoid  the  Blessed  Saviour's 
Name.     Yesterday,  in   a   Zenana   a  bright-looking   young   woman 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  323 

exclaimed,  not  particularly  apropos  to  anything  that  I  was  saying  : 
"  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Son  of  God."  "  Beshakh  ! »  (Without  doubt  !) 
instantly  rejoined  an  older  Bibi. 

*  Not  that  the  offence  of  the  Cross  has  ceased.     The  persecution 

which  dear  is  enduring  shows  this.     He  has  been  beaten  five 

or  six  times  ;  and  I  think  that  we  shall  have  to  try  to  get  his  enemies 
bound  over  to  keep  the  peace.  Personally,  I  am  courteously,  some- 
times affectionately,  treated.  The  poor  converts  are  those  who  have 
to  endure  hardness  ! ' 

^  April  27. — I  know  that  some  of  my  dear  ones  think  that  I  must 
be  very  lonesome,  with  no  white  woman  near  me.  But  there  are 
three  things  to  prevent  this  : — ist.  The  Presence  of  the  Master. 
2nd,  The  feeling  that  separation  of  body  is  nothing  compared  to 
separation  of  soul.  My  ties  to  loved  ones  in  England  are  not,  thank 
God,  broken  !  They  do  not  depend  on  mere  space.  3rd,  Real 
loneliness,  as  regards  even  this  world,  is  the  want  of  love  and 
sympathy.  Some  count  my  brown  friends  for  nothing  in  this  way. 
I  do  not  do  so.  They  draw  out  one's  affections,  and  respond  to 
them.  The  heart  does  not  shrivel  up  in  India,  even  when  one  lives 
in  such  an  out-of-the-way  place  as  Batala.' 

TO  MISS   '  LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

^May  I,  1879. 

I  am  sure  that  your  dear  Mother  and  you  would  peruse  with 
interest  Keshab  Sen's  lecture,  or  rather  the  review  of  it  in  the  States- 
man which  I  sent  home.  .  .  .  Keshab  Sen  was  a  brave  man,  not  only 
as  regards  the  Hindus,  but  the  English  officials,  to  say  what  he  did. 
To  aver  that  it  is  Christ's  Religion — not  our  superior  strength, 
wisdom,  intelligence — that  holds  India  for  us,  is  likely  to  give  great 
offence  in  high  quarters.  To  say  what  this  Hindu  did  of  despised 
Missionaries,  a  band  of  weak-minded  amiable  enthusiasts,  if  not 
something  more  contemptible, — as  the  world  thinks  them, — showed 
moral  courage.  ...  He  has  probably  made  a  good  many  people, 
both  white  and  brown,  angry.  His  cry,  "Jesus  alone  ! — Jesus  alone  ! 
India  for  Christ  ! "  would  find  no  echo  in  the  large  majority  of 
hearts.  .  .  . 

'  I  suspect  that  there  is  an  impression  amongst  some  Europeans, 
as  well  as  Natives,  that  Auntie  is  very  old.  I  have  three  times 
heard  the  latter  say  that  I  am  a  hundred  ;  and  I  notice  that  in  the 
last  Female  Evangelist  I  am  pronounced  "advanced  in  years." 
To  my  mind  that  means  at  least  seventy  !  !  !     I  was  guessed  to-day 


324  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

as  eighty  in  a  Zenana.     But  I  must  be  thought  a  pretty  active  old 
dame,  to  get  up  such  steep  stairs  as  I  do.' 

TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

''June  2,  1879. — Of  course  I  cannot  tell  what  God  wills  for  me. 
I  do  not  intend  to  do  anything  foolish.  I  do  not  even  let  my  mind 
dwell  7nuch  on  the  joy  of  going  to  a  Heavenly  Home,  because  it 
would  seem  selfish  at  present  to  wish  to  desert  others.  I  realise 
more  the  value  of  life  below  than  I  used  to  do,  and  am  thankful 
that  at  former  periods  God  did  not  fulfil  my  wish  to  leave  this  Earth 
for  a  better.  He  is  a  poor  soldier  who  is  always  pining  for  the  end 
of  the  campaign  ! ' 

''June  14. — I  never  felt  so  that  the  Word  of  God  in  my  hand  was 
rejected,  as  in  a  Zenana  to-day.  When  I  came  out,  V.,  my  kahar, 
said,  "You  should  not  go  to  that  house  again.  I  was  outside,  but 
I  heard  words  that  grieved  me.'?  But  I  had  two  nice  Zenanas  and 
a  nice  Native  Christian  home  to  balance.  One  of  the  nice  Zenanas  was 
N.'s.  He  spoke  almost  like  a  Christian,  before  his  mother,  grand- 
mother, and  handsome  young  bride.   They  all  seemed  quite  friendly.' 

''June  20. — Darling  Laura,  your  sweet  letter  has  arrived  since  I 
wrote  the  first  note.  Would  you  fairly  kill  me  with  kindness  ?  You 
have  already  done  too  much.  No,  my  sweet  sister,  I  would  never 
like  to  take  your  money  for  needless  luxuries, — of  comforts  I  have 
many.  Ice  is  not  to  be  had,  is  not  needed,  and  I  hardly  ever  even 
think  of  it.  We  are  much  better  without  a  carriage  ;  walking  is 
more  wholesome,  and  to  me  more  pleasant.  I  kissed  the  signature 
on  the  cheque — and  then — destroyed  it !  Forgive  me  !  In  about 
two  years  I  have  had  three  cheques  declined ;  so  you  see  that  I 
have  enough  and  to  spare.  I  am  quite  easy-handed,  love ;  not  at 
all  in  straits,  thank  God.' 

TO   MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

{Probably  July  1879.) 

'  I  am  engaged  in  a  matrimonial  afTair.  B.,  Mera  Bhatija's 
Christian  servant,  having  just  been  rejected  by  one  woman,  solicits, 
through  my  Ayah,  my  good  offices  to  find  him  a  wife.  He  bears  a 
first-rate  character,  and  would  make  an  excellent  husband,  but  he 
has  the  single  disadvantage  of  having  only  one  leg.  I  know  that 
Mera  Bhatija  wishes  B.  to  have  a  nice  wife  ;  so — after  consulta- 
tion with  one  who  knows  the  Orphanage  maidens  well,  and  has  an 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  325 

excellent  judgment, — I  have  fixed  on  a  jolly,  good-tempered  girl, 
.  .  .  able  to  cook  and  scrub,  and  have  written  a  note  to  the  Lady 
Superintendent,  requesting  her  permission  for  B.  to  pay  court 
to  C.  C.  is  to  be  told  of  the  lameness,  etc.,  and  then  if  she  too 
be  willing,  B.  will  be  allowed  to  have  an  interview  with  her. 
This  interview  decides  the  affair.  Both  parties  have  a  negative 
voice  ;  both  must  be  pleased  ;  and  if  so — the  banns  are  published  ! 
This  is  the  compromise  between  European  and  Oriental  ways  of 
arranging  marriages.  I  think  that  Mera  Bhatija  takes  a  lively 
interest  in  the  matter ;  and  if  the  marriage  comes  ofif,  we  should 
both  like  to  have  the  wedding  at  Batala.  The  people  here  ought 
to  have  the  opportunity  of  seeing  a  Christian  wedding.' 

TO  MRS.  HAMILTON. 

'July  29,  1879. 

'  I  will  give  you  another  of  my  little  Batala  sketches.  I  am  sitting 
reading.  Enters  M.,  the  tall  one-armed  Faqir  (religious  beggar), 
who  has  been  acting  as  Mera  Bhatija's  pankah-wala.  He  evidently 
wants  to  talk  with  me  ;  so,  seeing  me  willing  to  listen,  the  tall  fellow 
seats  himself  on  the  floor,  and  begins  .  .  . 

'  The  poor  fellow  had  been  thinking  how  he  could  earn  his  live- 
lihood,— he  has  a  wife  and  four  children,  and  of  course  religious 
begging  would  be  for  a  convert  both  improper  and  unprofitable. 
"  Pankah-pulling  will  last  for  but  a  short  time,"  he  very  truly  observed. 
His  plan  was  to  start  a  little  school  in  his  own  village. 

'"But  could  you  get  pupils?"  I  asked,  knowing  that  the  humble 
converts  are  not  kindly  treated  by  their  neighbours. 

' "  I  think  that  I  could  from  the  hamlets  round." 

'  Then  I  inquired  as  to  the  poor  Faqir's  quahfications  for  a  teacher. 
"  I  can  read  the  Gospel  well,"  was  the  simple  reply. 

'  "  Can  you  write  ?  " 

'  He  was  weak  in  that,  poor  fellow.  Having  only  one  arm  in- 
creases the  difficulty. 

' "  Do  you  know  accounts  ?  " 

' "  No,"  he  frankly  owned  ;  but  he  could  learn  ;  he  would  take  pains. 

' "  You  had  better  speak  to  the  Padri  Sahib  ;  he  makes  all  the 
bandobast  (arrangements) ;  he  is  wise  and  kind." 

'  If /would  speak  to  the  Padri  Sahib, — he  could  tell  me  ;  but  with 
the  Padri  Sahib  he  was  shy,  etc. 

'  It  is  rather  refreshing  to  see  a  Native  Christian,  especially  one 
brought  up  to  regard  idleness  rather  as  a  virtue,  turning  over  in 


326  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

his  mind  what  he  can  do  to  earn  his  living.  If  we  help  poor  M. 
to  a  little  better  education,  perhaps  his  little  village  school  may 
prove  not  a  bad  idea,  for  the  scholars  would  learn  what  is  good 
from  him,  though  they  could  only  have  elementary  teaching.  I  do 
not  see  why  rustics  should  want  high  education.  The  Government 
are  educating  thousands  of  clever  infidels,  who  cannot  all  find  em- 
ployment as  clerks,  etc.,  and  who  will  despise  manual  labour.  We 
want  simple  pious  labourers  to  mind  the  plough,  spell  out  their 
Testaments,  and  try  to  obey  God's  commands.' 

August  and  September  this  year  saw  Miss  Tucker,  not 
at  Dalhousie,  but  at  Dilur,  3000  feet  above  the  sea,  with 
forest-clothed  Himalayan  slopes  below,  and  snow  above. 
She  went  there,  partly  for  the  change,  but  more  for  the 
sake  of  staying  with  a  young  married  couple,  to  whom 
her  companionship  was  a  boon.  The  snow  appears  to 
have  soon  vanished,  as  in  one  letter,  written  in  September, 
she  observes :  '  The  mountains  are  quite  high  and  bold 
enough  for  beauty,  though  to  my  comfort  there  is  not  a 
soupgon  of  snow  upon  any  of  them.'  From  the  budget 
of  Dilur  letters,  only  two  quotations  can  be  given.  The 
first  is  rare  in  style  at  this  period  of  Charlotte  Tucker's 
life.     She  seldom  found  time  for  written  '  cogitations.' 

TO   Miss   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

'  DiLUR,  Aug.  25. 

'This  is  a  very  quiet  place  ...  so  I  have  plenty  of  time  for 
thinking.  I  have  been  musing  to-day  why  it  is  so  very  much  more 
easy  to  love  some  Christians  than  others.  You  and  every  other 
servant  of  God  must  feel  this,  I  think.  It  is  not  quite  easy  to  get 
at  the  bottom  of  the  matter.  I  ought  to  have  particular  facilities 
for  judging  ;  for,  thank  God,  I  find  it  easy  to  love  a  good  many. 

'  I  have  been  considering  to-day  that  simile  of  the  four  different 
circles  round  Him  Who  is  the  Centre  of  light,  holiness,  and  beauty. 
Those  who  live  nearest  to  Him,  I  do  believe,  actually  catch  some- 
thing, however  faint,  of  His  likeness.  .  .  .  Christ  is  the  All-attrac- 
tive;  and  in  the  degree  that  His  redeemed  ones  reflect  His  Image, 
it  seems  to  me  that  they  unconsciously  attract.  If  I  be  not  mis- 
taken in  this  idea,  one  sees  why  anything  of  littleness  or  meanness 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  327 

repulses.  Those  possessing  such  qualities  may  be  sincere  servants 
of  Christ ;  but  these  qualities  spoil  all  likeness !  So,  love,  here  is 
the  result  of  my  cogitations,  as  I  reclined  on  the  sofa  to  rest  myself 
after  rather  a  tiring  little  expedition. 

'  But  oh,  what  a  solemnising  thought  it  is  ! — The  likeness  to  Him, 
which  we  know  will  be  apparent  in  another  world,  to  begin  in  this  ! 
The  glass  of  our  souls,  so  spotted  and  dusty, — spotted  with  sin, 
and  dusty  with  pettiness, — to  be  cleansed  and  polished,  so  as  to 
receive  such  an  Image  !  But  you  and  I,  love,  have  caught  a  glimpse 
of  that  Image  in  those  whom  we  have  been  privileged  to  know  ; 
have  we  not  ? ' 

TO  MRS.  HAMILTON. 

'Sept.  29. 
'Yes,  precious  Laura,  you  might  be  sure  that  Char  does  not 
forget  you  in  prayer  any  day ;  but  your  last  dear  letter  from  Ilfra- 
combe  made  me  more  inclined  to  praise.  It  seemed  as  if  God  had 
granted  just  what  I  wished  for  you  ;  that  spiritual  joy  which  is  His 
special  gift.  Why  should  the  Children  of  Light  tread  the  pilgrim 
way  in  heaviness  ?  "  Light  is  sown  for  the  righteous,"  and  the  crop 
begins  to  show  itself  even  here.  .  .  ,' 

Later,  in  the  same  letter,  when  speaking  of  two  young 
converts,  she  says  of  one  of  them  : — 

'He  is  a  Mullah's  (Muhammadan  religious  teacher's)  son,  and  has 
been  brought  up  in  a  fine  school  for  bigotry.  He  told  me  what  a 
merit  it  is  considered  to  kill  infidels ;  and  that,  when  a  child,  he  had 
intended  to  acquire  this  merit.  "  Do  you  mean  that,  if  they  could, 
the  Muhammadans  would  think  it  right  to  kill  all  the  Europeans 
and  Native  Christians?"  I  asked.  "Beshakh!"  (Without  doubt!) 
replied  the  lad  simply.  Happily  all  Muhammadans  are  not  Mullahs' 
sons  ! ' 

'Batala,  Oct.  31,  1879.— What  shall  I  say  for  the  splendid  box, 
which  reached  me  in  perfect  condition  to-night  ?  I  am  almost  be- 
wildered by  the  multitude  of  my  possessions,  and  have  hardly  yet 
quite  realised  their  amount.  .  .  .  What  shall  I  begin  with?— not 
the  medicine,  surely, — and  yet  quinine  is  such  a  treasure  in  India, 
so  often  required,  asked  for  !  It  is  the  medicine  in  a  fever-land. 
And  it  is  dreadfully  expensive.  I  think  that  I  once  paid  more  than 
a  guinea  for  a  bottle,  not  a  large  one.  But  the  cretonne — yes,  that 
must  have  a  principal  place  in  my  letter  of  thanks  ;  such  a  splendid 
supply  !  .  .  . 


328  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

'  I  hope  that  my  Laura  will  forgive  me  if  I  do  not  gobble  up  all 
the  groceries  myself!  !  Of  the  chocolate  and  biscuit  I  shall  probably 
largely  partake ;  they  are  such  a  comfort  on  winter  mornings.  .  .  .' 

'■Nov.  13. — I  think  that  this  is  the  fourth  Anniversary  of  my  landing 
at  Bombay, — my  Indian  birthday !  Oh,  how  much  I  have  to  be 
thankful  for  !     Surely  goodness  and  mercy  have  followed  me  ! 

'  Shall  I  give  you  a  sketch  of  this  my  Indian  birthday?  Up  early 
— for  I  went  to  bed  early.  Ate  two  or  three  of  my  Laura's  biscuits, 
and  enjoyed  them.  Wrote  till  dear  good  R.  brought  the  hot 
water  for  my  bath.  Then  came  breakfast  No.  2 — tea  and  an  t.%g. 
At  7  A.M.,  or  thereabouts,  the  prayer-bell  rings,  and  we  all  assemble 
in  chapel.  After  chapel  comes  my  delightful  walk  in  the  fresh  morning 
air.  A  little  more  writing  and  reading,  and — breakfast  No.  3  with 
Mera  Bhatija  at  9.  After  that,  off  to  the  city  on  foot,  my  kahars 
carrying  my  dull  behind  me. 

*  In  the  city  I  visited  first  a  Muhammadan  Zenana,  then  paid  my 
weekly  visit  to  our  Brahmin  convert,  B.'s  wife.  .  .  .  Then  went  to 
G.  R.'s  Zenana,  where  are  four  generations  of  the  family.  I  can  read 
the  Gospel  there,  without  let  or  hindrance.  The  sweet  young  Bibi 
looked  as  if  she  would  like  me  to  kiss  her, — so  I  did  !  Then  to 
Sadiq's  mother.  After  this  I  returned  home,  noted  down  where  I 
had  been,  and  then — did  not  set  to  my  lessons.  I  had  something  else 
to  do.  The  cloth  of  our  large  screen  was  dirty  ;  so  Mera  Bhatija 
suggested  our  putting  the  pictures  on  a  nice  clean  one,  and  having 
the  first  white-washed.  So  I  got  in  my  Ayah  to  help  me,  and  we  were 
stitching  away  like  anything,  when  I  was  interrupted  by  a  visitor. 

'  No  fashionable  lady, — no  insipid  individual,  such  as  you  must 
talk  to  about  weather,  etc.,  but  a  fine,  thoughtful  young  Man, — who 
had  been  given  a  New  Testament,  which  he  is  reading  every  day, 
and  who  sat  down  on  the  floor,  and  quietly,  gravely,  asked  me 
to  explain  difficulties  which  he  had  met  with  in  his  reading,  such  as 
Daniel's  "  abomination  of  desolation,"  the  two  women  grinding,  etc. 
.  .  .  When  he  left,  I  returned  to  my  beauty  screen,  but  was  inter- 
rupted by  dear  good  Bibi  M.,  who  came  to  read  her  report.  She 
also  wanted  quinine, — I  am  rich^  my  Laura  knows.  This  brought 
me  up  to  3  o'clock  dinner. 

'Poor  N.  N.  is  not  well,  so  I  had  no  afternoon  lesson  from 
a  Munshi,  but  I  did  a  little  by  myself.  Then  out  into  the  bright, 
pleasant  air,  where  I  had  a  nice  talk  with  dear  I.  and  P.  After 
I  came  in,  Mera  Bhatija  and  I  had  tea, — now  I  am  writing  to 
my  Laura  by  lamplight  ;  and  when  I  lay  down  my  pen,  I  intend  to 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  329 

do  a  little  lessons.  I  have  written  out  my  vocabulary  very  large, 
so  as  not  to  injure  my  eyes.  At  8^  I  shall  hear  the  bell  ring  for 
prayers  ;  and  that  almost  closes  the  day. 

'Now  is  not  this  a  very  nice  Indian  birthday?  I  feel  quite  well 
and  hearty  now ;  much  stronger  than  when  in  the  Salt  range." 

'  Nov.  22. — Cold  having  set  in  pretty  sharply,  I  have  taken  my 
"graceful  Grey"  and  faithful  old  Green  out  of  their  safe  summer 
quarters,  and  have  prepared  them  for  immediate  service,  putting  in 
lace  to  the  sleeves,  etc.  The  Episcopal  Purple,  my  grand  new  dress, 
I  reserve  for  grand  occasions.  My  dress  must  be  well  fastened  up, 
and  decidedly  more  than  clear  the  ground,  when  I  go  to  Zenanas. 
See  me,  in  fancy,  climbing  slowly  up  a  dirty  steep  outside  staircase. 
I  have  the  indispensable  umbrella  in  one  hand, — though  it  be  winter, 
the  sun  may  be  blazing, — my  large  books  in  the  other.  Unless  I  had 
a  third  hand,  I  could  not  hold  up  my  dress  ;  and  the  steps  may  be  of 
mud.  Trains,  elegant  in  the  house,  would  never  do  in  Zenanas.  .  .  . 
I  hope  that  you  and  dear  Leila  will  be  interested  to  hear  that  our  one- 
legged  B.,  in  search  of  a  wife,  has  succeeded  in  finding  one.  I 
think  that  their  banns  have  been  called  twice  ;  and  we  shall  probably 
see  the  happy  pair  next  week.' 

TO   MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

^  Nov.  29,  1879. 

'  Yesterday,  at  last,  the  cricket-match  between  our  School  and  the 
big  Government  School  came  off.  We  challenged  the  Government 
School  long  ago  ;  but  they  took  no  notice.  Yesterday,  however,  a 
match  was  arranged  between  our  Christian  School  and  the  Government 
one,  which  is  about  ten  or  twelve  times  as  large.  We  were  much  the 
first  on  the  ground,  and  were  kept  waiting  for  more  than  an  hour. 
Most  of  our  Eleven  wore  red-checked  flannel  vests,  but  R.  the 
captain  had  a  becoming  grey  one.  ...  At  last  the  match  commenced  ; 
but  it  was  hardly  worth  calling  one.  The  Government  lads  could  not 
hold  their  own  in  the  least  !  The  whole  Eleven  only  made  5  runs 
between  them  ! 

'  It  was  a  very  different  thing  when  our  boys  took  the  batting.  It 
does  one  good  to  hear  the  thud  from  R.'s  bat  when  he  sends  the 
ball  flying  ever  so  far.  He  and  S.  made,  I  think,  87  runs,  and 
were  never  bowled  out.  The  rest  of  our  boys  had  no  turns  at  all ; 
for  the  sun  went  down,  and  still  R.  and  S.,  tired,  but  unconquered, 
held  their  wickets.  What  is  most  pleasing  is  that  our  boys  did  not 
crow  as  they  might  have  done, — their  opponents  were  too   utterly 


330   LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

smashed.     Had  the  contest  been  a  close  one,  there  would  have  been 
plenty  of  cheering. 

'  I  really  hope  that  it  may  do  good  for  it  to  be  known  through 
Batala  that,  in  a  manly  game,  the  Hindus  and  Muhammadans  "  can- 
not hold  a  candle"  to  the  Christian  boys,  who  go  preaching  and 
singing  hymns  on  Sunday  !  Piety  is  all  the  more  attractive  from 
union  with  manliness. 

'  Dec.  8. — Mera  Bhatija  intends  to  start  a  reading-room  in  the  city 
in  1880,  with  Bibles  in  various  languages,  books,  and  some  Native 
periodicals.  The  Illustrated — if  you  think  of  continuing  it — will  form 
one  of  the  baits.  Many  lads  now  can  read  a  little  English  ;  and  the 
pictures  will  form  an  attraction.' 


CHAPTER    X 

A.D.    1880-1881 

LOYAL  AND   TRUE 

The  series  of  extracts  from  letters,  through  the  year  1879, 
given  in  the  last  chapter,  will  convey  a  fair  general  idea  of 
how  many  succeeding  years  were  passed.  To  quote  with 
equal  fulness  from  each  year  would  mean — not  one  com- 
paratively small  volume,  but  two  large  ones  ;  and,  however 
interesting  the  subject-matter  in  itself,  readers  might  be 
expected  to  grow  weary. 

Year  after  year  Charlotte  Tucker  lived  on  in  the  old 
palace,  which  had  so  strangely  become  her  home,  sur- 
rounded by  the  brown  boys,  whom  she  loved  ;  and  by 
the  spring  of  1880  they  had  grown  to  forty  in  number. 
Year  after  year  she  wrote  little  booklets  for  the  Natives  of 
India.  Year  after  year  she  persisted  in  her  steady  round 
of  Zenana  visits  ;  not,  like  the  average  district-visitor  of 
England,  going  once  a  fortnight  or  once  a  week  into  her 
district, — which  was  the  whole  city  of  Batala, — but  day 
after  day  giving  hours  to  the  work,  never  daunted  because 
results  seemed  small,  never  apparently  even  tempted  to 
throw  up  her  arduous  task  in  despair.  She  had  \.o  plough 
for  the  Master  of  the  harvest ;  and  she  was  content  to 
leave  results  with  Him. 

It  must  have  been  a  monotonous  life,  viewed  from  ordin- 
ary standpoints.  Charlotte  Tucker  had  had  plenty  of 
society  in  the  past ;  and  though  she  might  laugh  at  stiff 

331 


332  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

dinner-parties  or  dull  morning  calls,  she  had  fully  enjoyed 
intercourse  with  superior  and  cultivated  minds.  Some 
amount  of  such  intercourse  she  had  still  in  the  Panjab  ; 
but  for  months  together,  as  time  went  on,  she  was  thrown 
mainly  upon  her  own  resources,  was  left  with  absolutely 
no  European  companions.  It  is  hardly  within  the  bounds 
of  possibility  that  she  should  not  have  suffered  from  the 
deprivation,  cheerily  as  she  received  it. 

'  Missionaries  in  work  are  usually  rather  "  yoked  two 
and  two,"  '  she  wrote  to  an  Aunt,  in  the  beginning  of  1 880. 
Then  after  a  slight  allusion  to  her  successive  '  yoke- 
fellows' at  Batala,  she  adds  brightly:  'And  I  look 
forward  for  the  greater  part  of  1 880  to  going  side  by  side 
with  Babu  Singha,  the  converted  Hindu  Head-master,' — 
with  kind  mention  also  of  his  wife  and  children. 

Friends  might  say  what  they  would.  Miss  Tucker  had 
advanced  far  beyond  the  stage  when  it  was  possible  to 
convince  her  that  she  '  could  not  stay  alone '  in  Batala. 
Mr.  Baring  had  decided  to  go  to  England  for  eight  months  ; 
and  no  one  else  was  free  to  join  her  in  Anarkalli ;  but 
she  refused  to  desert  her  post.  In  fact,  she  would  not  be 
'  alone '  there  now,  as  she  would  have  been  two  years 
earlier.  She  loved  and  was  loved  by  the  little  circle  of 
Indian  Christians  in  the  place ;  and  the  merry  boys  of  the 
household  were  very  dear  to  her.  None  the  less,  her  posi- 
tion was  a  singularly  solitary  one. 

The  frequent  arrival  of  boxes  from  England  afforded 
her  never-failing  delight ;  partly  on  her  own  account,  and 
yet  more  for  the  additional  facilities  afforded  thereby  for 
giving  away.  Pages  each  year  might  be  filled  with  quota- 
tions on  this  subject  alone. 

Also  month  by  month  fresh  indications  appeared  of  the 
reality  of  the  work  going  on, — an  inquirer  here  ;  a  convert 
there  ;  an  abusive  Muhammadan  softened  into  gentleness  ; 
an    ignorant    Heathen   enlightened ;    a  bigot  persuaded  ; 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  333 

and  now  and  again  one  coming  forward,  bravely  resolute 
to  undergo  Baptism,  willing  to  face  the  almost  inevitable 
persecution  following.  All  these  things  were  of  perpetual 
occurrence,  and  they  lay  very  near  to  Charlotte  Tucker's 
heart. 

On  the  30th  of  January  1880  comes  a  pungent  little 
sentence  : — 

'  What  fearful  people  the  Nihilists  are  !  When  one  reads  of  them, 
one  seems  to  see  Satan  let  loose  !  There  is  some  similarity  between 
India  and  Russia.  Perhaps  some  years  hence  a  Nihilist  crop  may 
rise  from  tens  of  thousands  of  sharp  conceited  lads  whom  the  Govern- 
ment so  carefully  educate  without  God !  They  cannot  possibly  all  get 
the  prizes  in  life  which  they  look  for  ;  they  woii't  dig, — so  will  natur- 
ally swell  the  dangerous  classes.  Such  dear  lads  as  we  have  here 
will  be,  we  trust,  as  the  salt  in  the  mass.  But  they  may  have  a 
difficult  work  before  them.' 

Two  letters  in  February  to  two  nieces  must  not  be 
passed  over.  In  the  first  we  have  a  glimpse  of  the  dark  as 
well  as  of  the  hopeful  side  : — 

'  Feb.  2. — That  most  unhappy  lad,  ,  seems  to  be  a  thorough 

hypocrite.  Only  a  day  or  so  after  professing  himself  a  true  penitent, 
and  kneeling  in  seeming  prayer  at  my  side,  he  has,  we  hear,  been 
actually  preaching  in  the  bazaar  here  against  the  Christians.  .  .  .  The 
subject  is  too  sad  to  dwell  upon  ;  but  it  is  better  that  I  should  let  you 
know  at  once,  as  I  sent  home  so  hopeful  a  letter. 

'Fancy  poor  E.  Bibi  actually  paying  me  a  visit  here  yesterday 
evening.  The  delicate  creature  longed  to  come.  I  told  her  to  ask 
her  husband's  leave,  and  suggested  that  he  had  better  come  with  her. 
She  asked  me  to  send  my  kahar  in  the  morning,  and  she  would  send 
a  message  by  him  as  to  whether  her  "  Sahib  "  consented  or  not.  The 
answer  was  favourable  ;  so  I  made  arrangements  to  have  two  dulis  at 
her  door  after  dark,  for  E.,  her  mother,  and  her  two  little  girls. 
I  warned  our  boys  to  keep  out  of  the  chapel,  into  which  I  first  intro- 
duced the  Bibis.  I  went  to  the  harmonium,  and  sang  to  it,  "  Jesus 
lives,"  and  two  or  three  verses  of  the  Advent  hymn,  etc.  While  we 
were  in  the  chapel  the  husband  joined  us,  sat  down,  and  quietly 
listened.     He  was  very  silent,  which  I  think  showed  good  manners. 

'  We  then  all  proceeded  up  our  long  staircase.  ...  I  offered  tea. 


334  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

but  no  one  drank  it ;  the  children  ate  some  pudding,  and  I  presented 
each  of  them  with  one  of  the  dolls  which  your  dear  Mother  sent  out, 
which  I  have  had  dressed.  ...  I  think  the  party  were  pleased.  I 
wonder  what  thoughts  were  passing  in  the  mind  of  that  silent  hus- 
band. He  knows  perfectly  well  what  I  visit  his  wife  for  ;  for  in 
Batala  we  do  not  hide  our  colours  at  all.  I  sometimes  think  that 
dear  M.^  dashes  right  at  the  enemy  almost  too  boldly ;  but  as  she 
is  a  supposed  descendant  of  Muhammad,  I  dare  say  that  her  daunt- 
less intrepidity  has  a  good  effect.  I  do  not  find  the  women  made 
angry  even  by  what  must  startle  them.  Of  course  one's  manner 
must  be  gentle  and  conciliating,  even  when  meeting  the  question, 
"  Do  you  think  that  Muhammad  told  lies  ? "  with  a  simple  straight- 
forward, "  Yes." 

'  I  think  that  not  a  few  Batala  women  do  now  believe  that  our 
religion  is  the  right  one,  and  that  our  Blessed  Lord  is  the  Saviour  of 
sinners.  But  this  belief  may  exist  for  years  before  there  is  any 
desire  for  Baptism.' 

^  Feb.  6. — One  visit  which  I  paid  in  the  former  place  (Amritsar) 
would  have  warmed  your  heart.  In  a  cottage  in  the  Mission  com- 
pound, occupied  by  one  of  the  Bible-women,  I  found  three  who 
doubtless  will  inherit  the  blessing  promised  to  all  who  are  persecuted 
for  righteousness'  sake.  There  was  dear  faithful  Begum  J.,  and 
her  daughter,  K.  (now  a  Bible-woman).  These  are  the  two  who, 
as  you  may  remember,  were  threatened  with  a  razor  by  Begum 
J.'s  husband,  and  fled,  and  were  afterwards  baptized.  They  had 
come  to  see  another  brave  Convert,  who  had  been  baptized  on  the 
previous  day. 

'  A  fierce  crowd  had  attacked  her,  tore  the  jewels  from  her  ears, 
beat  her  on  the  head,  threatened  to  cut  off  her  nose  !  How  she 
escaped  she  cannot  tell ;  she  was  bewildered.  Perhaps  some  unseen 
Angel  took  her  by  the  hand.  She  reached  so7nehow  a  duli,  which  was 
in  waiting  for  her,  and  was  baptized  the  same  day.' 

The  school  was  so  growing,  that  by  March  1880  a 
good  many  of  the  boys  had  to  sleep  on  the  floor  which 
formerly  had  been  reserved  entirely  for  Europeans.  This 
Miss  Tucker  did  not  mind. 

Before  the  end  of  March  she  had  to  bid  good-bye  to  her 
dharm-nephew,  who  was  starting  for  England.     It  must 

1  Native  Bible-wpman. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  335 

have  given  her  a  strange  feeling,  thus  to  see  one  and 
another  leave  for  the  dear  old  country,  which  she  so  loved, 
and  yet  which  she  had  resolved  never  of  her  own  free  will 
to  see  again. 

The  previous  day  a  feast  was  given  in  Mr.  Baring's 
honour,  the  boys  'subscribing  to  buy  the  little  dainties' ; 
and  '  speeches  of  love  and  gratitude  '  being  made.  Then, 
in  the  early  morning,  long  before  dawn.  Miss  Tucker  felt 
her  way  down  the  dark  staircase,  to  see  the  traveller  off. 
'  The  babies,'  as  she  called  some  of  the  tinier  brown  boys, 
were  there  also ;  one  small  orphan  looking  *  sad  and 
thoughtful '  over  the  farewell.  Bigger  boys  also  came 
down,  and  they  waited  in  the  Chapel  till  the  Principal 
appeared.  Shakings  of  hands  were  followed  by  cheers,  as 
Mr.  Baring  drove  away  in  the  dak-gari, — '  probably  with 
mingled  feelings,'  writes  Miss  Tucker.  One  is  disposed  to 
wonder  what  her  feelings  were,  as  she  turned  back  into  the 
palace  ;  alone  among  her  companions  ;  the  only  Euro- 
pean in  that  Eastern  city  !  Yet  no  signs  of  heart-quailing 
can  be  seen  in  the  letter  to  her  sister,  written  on  the  same 
day. 

In  this  spring  of  1880  came  another  event  of  import- 
ance,— the  *  Disruption  '  of  the  older  Zenana  Society, 
under  which  Charlotte  Tucker  had  worked  as  an  Honorary 
Member. 

There  is  no  necessity  to  enter  fully  here  into  the  causes 
which  led  to  that  disruption.  To  some  of  us  it  may  seem 
to  have  been,  sooner  or  later,  almost  inevitable.  Until 
that  date  the  attempt  had  been  made  to  work  on  what  are 
sometimes  called  '  un-denominational  lines,' — which  meant 
that  the  Missionaries  might  be  either  Churchwomen  or 
Dissenters,  each  teaching  according  to  her  own  convictions. 
A  difficult  programme  to  carry  out,  one  is  disposed  to 
imagine  !  After  a  while  friction  arose  in  the  Governing 
Body  at   home.      Since  by    far   the   larger   majority   of 


336  777^  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

workers  in  the  field  belonged  to  the  Anglican  Church,  it 
was  rightly  considered  that  the  Governing  Body  ought  to 
consist  of  an  equally  large  majority  of  Church  people  ;  and 
on-  this  point  the  split  took  place.  The  Society  broke 
into  two  parts.  The  one  part  remained  more  or  less  Dis- 
senting ;  the  other  part  became  distinctly  and  exclusively 
Church  of  England.  Each  Missionary  had  to  make  her 
own  decision  as  to  which  she  would  join  ;  and  Charlotte 
Tucker  at  least  had  no  hesitation  in  the  matter.  On  the 
1 2th  of  May  she  wrote  : — 

'  Here  I  am  at  home  again,  after  my  strange  little  visit  to  Amritsar  ; 
short,  but  by  no  means  unimportant.  All  our  five  ladies  have  crossed 
the  Rubicon  ;  they  have  sent  in  their  resignations,  with  the  usual  six 
months'  notice.  It  remains  to  be  seen  whether  the  new  "  Church  of 
England  Zenana  Society  "  will  or  can  take  them  all  on  !  We  know 
not  what  the  state  of  their  funds  will  be,  as  they  begin  on  nothing. 
Our  ladies,  with  Mr.  Weitbrecht  the  Secretary,  seemed  to  have  no 
hesitation  as  to  what  course  to  pursue, — that  of  resignation.  ...  I  am 
very  desirous  to  know  what  dear  Margaret  Elmslie  and  Emily  will 
do.  .  .  .  How  the  complicated  machinery  of  the  Mission  will  work 
during  the  strange  interregnum  I  know  not.  .  .  .  One  expects  a  sort  of 
little— not  exactly  chaos,  but — struggling  along  in  a  fog,  for  the  next 
six  months  ;  and  then  we  shall  probably  see  our  way  clearly.' 

On  the  following  day  she  sent  in  her  own  resignation. 
Little  more  appears  about  the  subject  in  later  letters.  As 
an  Honorary  Worker  her  own  position  was  not  affected, 
nor  was  her  income  placed  in  jeopardy  ;  and  soon  the  new 
'  Church  of  England  Zenana  Society,'  being  warmly  taken 
up,  was  in  full  working  order.  Amongst  those  who  joined 
it  were  her  friends,  Mrs.  Elmslie  and  Miss  Wauton. 

At  this  time  she  was  becoming  very  anxious  for  the  re- 
turn of  Mrs.  Elmslie,  who  had  been  detained  in  England  far 
longer  than  was  at  first  intended,  by  family  claims.  Some- 
times a  fear  was  expressed  that  Mrs.  Elmslie  might  never 
return  ;  and  no  one  else  could  fill  her  place.  Charlotte 
Tucker  did  not  dream  of  the  happy  consummation  ahead. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  337 

Two  or  three  references  to  her  earlier  days  occur  in  June 
and  July,  as  if  some  cause  had  sent  her  thoughts  backward. 

^June  4,  1880. — I  think,  love,  that  one  gets  into  a  kind  of  social 
fetters.  When  we  were  young  we  had  the  worry  of  a  footboy  at- our 
heels,— it  was  thought  suitable  for  our  position.  (Do  you  remember 
dear  Fanny's  lovely  definition   of  that  word  ?)      When    I    was   in 

Edinburgh,  dear was  surprised,  and  I  think  a  little  shocked,  at 

"my  father's  daughter"  going  in  omnibuses.  As  if  it  were  any 
disgrace  to  my  father's  middle-aged  daughter  to  do  what  her  precious 
princely  Sire  had  done  a  hundred  times  !  O  Laura,  when  one  throws 
aside  these  trammels  of  social  position,  one  feels  like  a  horse  taken 
out  of  harness,  and  set  free  in  a  nice  green  meadow.  Our  honoured 
Father  !  what  true  dignity  was  his, — but  how  he  shook  off  the 
trammels  ! 

'  To  be  mean  and  miserly  is  quite  another  thing.  That  dishonours 
our  profession.  One  should  be  ready  to  entertain  hospitably,  and  to 
pay  for  work  done  handsomely ;  there  is  a  free  hand  and  a  generous 
spirit  quite  consistent  with  economy.' 

''July  13. — Yes,  love,  we  did  intensely  enjoy  those  concerts  in  H. 
Squared  I  want  you  to  enjoy  more  concerts.  It  is  curious  how  useful 
I  have  found  my  little  music  in  the  evening  of  my  days.  I 
sometimes  think  of  dear  Mother's  words  to  me, — "  Do  not  give  up 
your  music." ' 

In  July,  when  Miss  Tucker  was  congratulating  herself 
that  half  the  time  of  Mr.  Baring's  absence  was  over,  a 
letter  arrived  speaking  of  lengthened  furlough.  She  was 
much  distressed,  fearing  harm  to  the  school,  and  for  a 
v/hile  was  assailed  by  fears  that  perhaps  he  and  also  Mrs. 
Elmslie  might  never  return.  Happily  these  fears  were 
groundless ;  but  plans  were  afloat  for  some  temporary 
arrangement  while  the  Principal  remained  away.  Miss 
Wauton  too  was  at  this  time  taking  her  well-earned 
furlough  in  England,  and  workers  were  sorely  needed  in 
the  Panjab ;  while  new  untrained  Missionaries  on  first 
going  out  could  do  little.  '  We  want  Margaret,'  was  the 
burden  of  her  cry ;  to  which  was  now  added, '  We  want 
Mr.  Baring.' 
Y 


338  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

For  herself  she  had  no  thought  of  a  furlough.  Friends 
thought  of  it  for  her ;  and  she  put  the  idea  resolutely 
aside.  Writing  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  on  September  6,  she 
said :  '  And  now  for  a  more  important  subject,  broached 
in  your  sweet  letter.  I  do  not  feel  that  it  would  be  either 
wise  as  regards  myself,  or  right  as  regards  my  work,  to  go 
home  next  year.  The  great  fatigue  of  two  journeys,  the 
excitement  of  meeting  loved  ones,  and  the  wrench  of 
parting  again, — I  doubt  how  my  health  could  stand  it. 
As  regards  the  work — I  need  not  expatiate.  It  would  look 
as  if  I  thought  much  of  the  little  that  I  could  do  ;  but 
little  is  better  than  nothing.  It  seems  to  me  that  one  of 
the  most  useful  things  about  me  is  that — hitherto — I  have 
stuck  pretty  close  to  my  Station.  If  I  were  a  Native 
Christian,  I  think  that  I  should  be  tempted  to  hate  the 
very  word  "  going  home,"  and  to  regard  Europe  as  a  trap 
for  my  Missionaries.  Let  them,  if  possible,  have  a  restful 
feeling  in  regard  to  at  least  one  old  woman,  whom  they 
are  ready  to  love.' 

And  a  few  days  later  to  Miss  Hamilton,  on  September 
14  :— 

'  Your  sweet  Mother  threw  out  a  suggestion  about  my  going  home 
next  year;  but  it  seems  to  me,  love,  that  if  I  did  so, — unless 
circumstances  change, — I  should  deserve  to  be  shot  as  a  deserter. 
Even  if  I  were  to  become  blind  or  paralytic,  I  believe  that  it  would 
be  well  to  stick  to  Batala.  I  am  the  only  apology  for  a  European 
Missionary  here  ;  and,  curionsly  enough,  my  very  age  is  an  advantage. 
What  might  be  a  great  hindrance  elsewhere  is  rather  a  help  here.' 

In  a  letter  of  September  14  occurs  a  passage  about 
apparent  success  or  non-success  in  work.  She  had  perhaps 
comforted  herself  from  time  to  time  with  such  thoughts 
as  follow. 

Speaking  about  a  certain  American  religious  book, 
which  had  been  lent  to  her  by  one  who  greatly  admired  it, 
and  about  Mr.  Bateman's  opinion  of  the  same  volume, 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  339 

she  observes :  *  What  Rowland  most  objected  to  was 
the  American  affirming  that  if  you  take  certain  means 
to  effect  conversions,  the  result  is  as  sure  as  harvest 
following  breaking  up  the  ground.  As  Rowland  says,  we 
cannot  even  break  up  the  ground  without  God.  .  .  .  Are 

we  to  conclude  that and are  truer  workers  than 

dear spending  his  strength  in  breaking  stones  at  K., 

while  the  sheaves  almost  drop  into  the  reapers'  arms  at 
D.  ?  Did  our  Blessed  Lord  Himself,  Who  was  always 
sowing  golden  seed,  reap  a  very  large  harvest  during  His 
Ministry?  St.  Peter's  first  sermon  drew  in  a  far  greater 
number  than  all  the  disciples  of  the  Blessed  Lord  before 
His  Resurrection  put  together.' 

It  was  evident  that,  although  she  must  have  felt  her 
lonely  position,  she  was  gradually  becoming  used  to  it ; 
even  so  far  as  not  at  all  to  wish  for  a  strange  young  lady 
as  a  companion.  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  made  strong 
representations  to  the  Society  at  home  of  the  need  of  a 
helper  at  Batala ;  and  the  letters  given  next  seem  to  have 
been  written  partly  in  consequence  of  this. 

As  early  as  the  spring  of  1880  Miss  Tucker  could  say  : 
*  I  used  to  think  it  rather  tiresome  when  business  took  both 
my  English  companions  for  a  few  days  away ;  now  I  am 
quite  serene  if  I  do  not  see  a  white  face  for  months.'  And 
in  November  of  the  same  year  :  '  As  to  earthly  blessings, 
they  abound  ;  the  Natives  are  my  real  friends.  The  Lord 
gives  abundant  grace,  and  cheers  me  with  His  Presence ; 
and  I  have  such  joy  in  the  companionship  of  my  Bible, 
that  I  do  not  miss  the  society  I  should  otherwise  value. 
Do  not  send  a  helper  to  me,  when  many  other  parts  of 
India  need  it  so  much  more.' 

Again,  on  September  27  : — 

*  It  is  very  loving  in  you  to  be  so  anxious  for  me  to  have  a  lady- 
companion.  But,  unless  a  Missionary's  wife,  one  might  far  from  add 
either  to  my  comfort  or  usefulness.     To  put  aside  the  possibility  of 


340  THEiLIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

her  being  eloquent, — a  late  sitter-up,— of  a  melancholy  or  nervous 
temperament,  or  often  ailing, —  I  really  have  no  spare  space  for  a 
lady  companion.  She  must  share  my  bath-room,  if  not  my  bedroom  ; 
and  in  India  this  would  be  very  uncomfortable. 

'  But  why,  you  may  say,  should  there  be  more  room  for  a  married 
pair  than  for  one  maiden  lady?  The  answer  is  simple  enough.  If 
a  gentle7nan  were  here,  the  large  family  of  the  Singhas  would  give 
up  their  rooms  and  move  to  the  Banyans.  We  must  have  a  gentleman 
Superintendent.' 

Later  in  the  same  letter  comes  a  reference  to  one  of  the 
Heroes  of  her  enthusiastic  girlhood.  Lady  Outram  and 
her  gallant  husband  had  been  intimate  friends  of  the 
Tucker  family ;  and  many  a  loving  message  in  these  later 
years  was  sent  home  by  Charlotte  Tucker  to  the  former. 

'  I  have  been  reading  much  of  the  noble  Outram's  Memoir  to-day. 
As  far  as  I  have  gone,  I  think  that  the  Biographer  has  done  his  work 
well.  The  Outram  of  the  book  is  just  the  Outram  who  was  the 
admiration  of  our  girlhood, — generous,  chivalrous,  noble  !  One  feels 
how  much  pain  that  fine  spirit  would  have  been  saved,  had  he 
realised  how  little  it  really  matters  whether  good  service  be  appreciated 
or  not  by  man,  if  the  great  Leader  accept  it, — if  all  be  done  as  to 
Him  Who  never  overlooks  or  misunderstands  !  To  our  own  Master 
we  stand  or  fall ;  let  earthly  superiors  say  what  they  will.' 

'  Oct.  1 6. — Dear,  excellent thinks  that  my  not  having  a  "Revival" 

in  Batala  is  because  I  do  not  study  his  favourite  author.  You  can 
hardly  have  a  Revival  unless  there  has  been  some  life  before.  .  .  . 
Our  work  is  more  like  clearing  in  backwoods, — there  are  huge  trees 
and  boulders  cumbering  the  ground  ;  not  just  weeds  overspreading  a 
garden  that  once  was  a  little  cultivated.  Then  here  women  cannot 
read,  and  do  not  choose  to  learn.  ...  I  like  Miss  Havergal's  Kept 
for  the  Master's  Use  so  much.  It  is  beautiful.  But  I  do  not  feel 
with  her  that  it  is  possible  on  Earth  to  have  our  will  exactly  one 
with  God's.  Even  the  Blessed  Saviour  made  a  distinction  between 
"  My  Will "  and  "  Thy  Will."  Dear  C.  T.  T.,  for  instance,  submitted 
sweetly  to  her  heavy  trials  ;  but  it  could  not  be  her  will^  it  was  her 
cross^  to  lose  all  her  nearest  and  dearest,  and  see  her  father  ill  for  so 
many  years.' 

Dec.  15,  1880. — Dear  Mr.  Clark's  return  has  caused  so  much  joy. 
The  Native  Christians  have  had  a  loving  address  to  him  printed  in 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  341 

letters  of  gold.  I  fancy  that  a  general  feeling  is,  "  Now  there  is  a 
hand  on  the  reins."  .  .  .  Mr.  Clark  is  an  experienced  and  skilful 
driver.  True,  he  is  very  weak,  but  he  brings  brains^  and  a  power  of 
organisation.  If  he  were  a  prisoner  to  his  room  he  might  be  very 
valuable  still.  .  .  .  He  was  sadly  missed.  .  .  . ' 

''Dec.  17. — Please^  love,  make  no  plans  for  bringing  ladies  to 
Batala.  It  is  so  awkward  to  me  to  have  to  explain  to  nice  enthusiastic 
ladies  that  they  cannot  come.  This  is  not  a  place  except  for  elderly 
or  married  ladies.  If  Mera  Bhatija  would  bring  out  a  nice  wife,  it 
would  give  much  pleasure  ;  at  present  plans  and  propositions  only — 
I  must  not  say  burden  me — but  they  do  not  help  me.  I  do  very  well 
as  I  am  ;  I  have  had,  through  God's  goodness,  a  happy  year  ;  and  if 
I  were  to  be  ill,  I  would  rather  be  doctored  by  our  Sikh,  and  nursed 
by  our  Natives.  As  for  visitors,  we  have  hardly  any  except  in  the 
cooler  weather  ;  and  a  little  packing  then  does  no  harm.' 

Of  the  following  extracts  to  Mrs.  E ,  only  two  of 

which  are  fully  dated,  all  probably  belong  to  about  this 
period  : — 

''July  23. — I  saw  to-day  a  sight  which  perhaps  never  met  your  eyes 
in  India,  and  which  I  never  wish  to  see  again  ;  though  it  was  not 
without  something  of  melancholy  beauty.  On  Sunday  towards  dusk 
I  was  with  some  of  the  boys,  and  they  called  out  "  Locusts  ! "  I 
looked  up  into  the  sky,  and  saw  what  my  old  eyes  would  have 
considered  harmless  clouds  high  above  me  ;  but  the  young  eyes  must 
have  detected  the  motion  of  countless  wings.  To-day  there  was  no 
possibility  of  mistake.  I  was  in  a  Zenana,  in  the  full  light  of  day, 
gazing  up  at  myriads  and  myriads, — dark  against  white  clouds,  light 
against  the  blue  sky, — passing  over  Batala.  They  looked  to  me  like 
God's  terrible  army  ;  so  strong  ;  so  vigorous ;  not  one  amongst  the 
millions  appeared  to  be  weary ;  not  one  did  I  see  drop  down  as  if 
faint  from  long  flight.  They  flew  as  if  they  had  a  purpose  ;  our  fair 
green  fields  did  not  appear  to  tempt  the  destroyers, — only  I  saw  a 
comparatively  small  number  in  one, — but  they  were  clearly  intent  on 
going  somewhere  else.  Alas  for  the  land  where  they  alight !  A 
Native  told  me  that  they  would  probably  come  back  again.  How 
helpless  is  man  against  such  a  foe  !  We  can  only  ask  for  mercy,  as 
Pharaoh  did.' 

'  Kangra,  ^?/^.  21. — I  paid  a  visit  to  Kangra  fort  yesterday;  a 
grand  picturesque  place,  holding  a  commanding  position.     The  officer 


342  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

in  command  had  prepared  tea  and  cake  for  me,  and  the  dear  kind 
soldiers  lemonade,  so  I  was  treated  with  much  hospitality.  They  do 
not  often  see  a  lady  up  there.  I  have  often  thought  of  your  dear 
M.'s  words  about  the  soldiers,  and  her  wondering  at  my  feehng 
shy  with  them.  They  are  some  of  the  pleasantest  people  in  the  world 
to  have  to  do  with.  .  .  .  While  I  was  taking  tea  with  the  Commander, 
the  soldiers  were  concocting  a  letter  to  say  that  they  had  collected 
ten  rupees  to  pay  my  expenses,  and  hoped  that  I  would  soon  come 
again.  I  certainly  do  not  want  their  money,  poor  dear  fellows  ;  and 
I  mean  to  go  again  on  Monday.  Soldiers'  money  seems  to  jump  out 
of  their  purses  of  its  own  accord.  In  this  the  Natives  are  far  behind 
them.  Four  soldiers — I  think  in  Afghanistan — are  uniting  to  support 
a  little  girl  at  the  Amritsar  Orphanage.  They  are  charmed  with  the 
idea.  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  except  giving  the  Superintendent's 
address.  I  have  over  and  over  again  received  help  for  the  Mission 
from  English  soldiers,  and  I  never  ask  them  for  it.  Fine  fellows  ! — 
and  to  think  what  they  have  to  suffer  ! ' 

'Batala,  Oct.  I,  1880. — I  was  amused  to-day  at  what  my  kahar 
called  out.  I  am  quite  accustomed,  as  I  am  borne  along  in  my  Httle 
duli,  to  hear  my  bearers  shout,  "  Posh  !  posh  ! "  (Hide  !  hide  !),  which 
is  absurd  enough,  as  if  all  must  flee  from  my  approach.  But  to-day 
was  too  absurd.  I  was,  according  to  custom,  walking  to  the  city, 
with  my  kahars  carrying  my  duli  behind.  There  was  a  rider  in  front, 
mounted  on  a  horse  inclined  to  back.  My  attentive  kahar,  careful 
that  the  animal  should  not  hurt  me,  cried  out,  "  Save  the  horse  ! " — 
as  if,  instead  of  its  kicking  vie^  the  danger  was  that  a  mild  old  lady 
approaching  on  foot  should  demohsh  the  unfortunate  animal ! ' 

'Batala,  Jan.  31,  1881. — As  I  was  engaged  yesterday  with  a 
party  of  our  boys,  I  was  interrupted  by  hearing  that  my  poor  dear 
Ayah  had  been  stung — bitten,  as  the  people  incorrectly  say  — by  a 
scorpion.  I  thought  what  could  be  done.  I  had  happily  by  me 
some  ipecacuanha,  sent  to  me  in  1879  by  my  dear  kind  sister,  Laura, 
in  case  of  such  an  emergency,  and  also  pain-killer,  which  she 
forwarded  to  me  more  recently.  Armed  with  these  and  a  bit  of  tape, 
probably  her  present  also,  I  hastened  to  the  compound,  and  found 
my  Ayah  crying  with  the  violent  pain.  She  had  already  sucked 
the  poor  finger.  I  tied  my  tape  round  it,  anointed  it  with  a  mixture 
of  ipecacuanha  and  pain-killer,  and  gave  some  of  the  latter  also 
internally.  My  Hannah  appeared  to  derive  some  relief,  but  had 
much  pain  in  the  night.    To-day,  however,  she  is  much  better.    I  have 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  343 

never  seen  either  scorpion  or  centipede  in  Batala  ;  but  then  my  long 
staircase  would  present  a  formidable  difficulty  to  such  reptiles.' 

About  this  time,  hearing  the  boys  one  day  singing  The 
Vicar  of  Bray ^  Miss  Tucker  wrote  fresh  words  to  suit  the 
old  tune,  and  taught  them  to  her  young  companions. 
The  second  verse  was  curiously  characteristic  of  herself. 

'  The  rushing  torrent  bears  along 

The  straw  on  its  surface  thrown,  Sir  ; 
But  the  rock  in  its  midst  stands  firm  and  strong, 

Although  it  stand  alone,  Sir. 

Oh,  may  our  steadfast  courage  so 

In  danger's  hour  be  seen,  Sir  ; 

And  let  the  tide  flow. 

And  let  the  world  go. 

We  '11  be  true  to  our  Faith  and  our  Queen,  Sir  ! ' 


CHAPTER   XI 

A.D.  1881-1882 

CLOUDS  AFTER   SUNSHINE 

The  greater  part  of  188 1  passed  much  as  1880  had  passed  ; 
Miss  Tucker  continuing  to  live  in  the  old  palace,  busy  and 
happy  among  her  Indian  friends,  and  cheery  with  the 
boys,  having  no  second  European  within  easy  reach.  But 
in  the  spring  came  an  unexpected  joy.  News  arrived  that 
her  dharm-nephew,  the  Rev.  Francis  Baring,  was  engaged 
to  be  married  to  her  dearly-loved  friend,  Mrs.  Elmslie, 
and  that  the  two  might  be  expected  in  Batala  before  the 
close  of  the  year.  Could  Charlotte  Tucker  have  had  the 
shaping  of  events  for  herself,  for  her  friends,  and  for  Batala, 
one  can  well  imagine  that  this  is  precisely  what  she  would 
have  chosen  to  take  place.  In  the  opening  of  the  year, 
however,  she  had  no  idea  of  what  would  soon  come. 

''Jan.  5,  1 88 1. — In  looking  over  my  records  of  1880,  I  find  that  in 
the  nine,  or  rather  eight  months,  of  Mera  Bhatija's  absence, — as  I 
was  away  myself  for  a  month, — I  have  given  nearer  seven  hundred 
than  six  hundred  teas  to  boys  or  young  men.  The  expense  is  trifling  ; 
it  seems  as  if  a  couple  of  pounds  of  tea  lasted  for  ever ;  but  all  these 
little  marks  in  my  book  represent  a  good  deal  of  innocent  enjoyment, 
not,  I  hope,  unmixed  with  profit.  All  the  boys,  save  two  lately  come, 
have  again  and  again  sat  at  my  table,  chatted  or  played  with  me.' 

'■Jan.  II. — I  was  with  a  poor  weeping  Bibi  yesterday.  Her  heart 
was  very  heavy.  She  told  me  that  her  husband  had  forsaken  her ; 
he  has  gone  away  and  married  another.  When  I  asked  her  in  the 
presence   of  her  companions  who  Christ  is,   she   replied,   "God's 

844 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  345 

,Son."  "Why  did  He  come  from  Heaven  ?"  "To  save  us."  I  wish 
that  this  forlorn  one  would  throw  herself  on  His  love,  and  come  into 
the  Church.  I  read  God's  Word  to  another  Bibi  to-day,  who  is  in 
the  same  position, — desolate,  forsaken,  ready  to  listen.  A  third  case 
is  somewhat  similar.  You  would  think  it  comparatively  easy  for 
these  forsaken  ones  to  come  out ;  but  even  to  them  the  difficulties 
are  immense.  Where  the  husband  is  tolerably  kind,  the  difficulty  is 
next  to  insuperable  ;  for  marriage  by  Muhammadan  law, — and  I 
have  lately  been  shocked  to  hear,  by  English  law  also, — is  dissolved 
by  Baptism.  This  is  dead  against  St.  Paul's  directions  as  to  the  duty 
of  believing  wives  towards  unbelieving  husbands ;  and  you  can 
imagine  how  it  complicates  the  difficulties  of  Zenana  visitors  !  .  .  . 
If  one  would  express  in  one  word  the  Missionary's  worst  perplexity, 
I  think  that  I  would  put  down  the  word  "marriage."' 

^\Feb.  5,  1 88 1. — I  went  to  a  wedding  yesterday,  one  of  the  silly 
child-marrying  affairs,  with  which  the  Hindus  delight  to  ruin  them- 
selves and  run  into  debt.     Poor quite  agreed  with  me  that  it  is 

very  foolish  ;  but  he  and  his  relatives  cannot  resist  dastur,^  so  both 
my  kahars  receive  next  to  nothing  for  five  months,  to  work  out  their 
debt  to  me.  I  had  to  do  rather  a  difficult  thing  for  an  old  lady,  in 
order  to  get  to  the  wedding-party,  climb  a  real  ladder — not  very 
good — of  eight  rounds.  I  am  not  as  agile  as  I  used  to  be,  and  had  to 
go  up  and  up,  and  then  down  and  down,  very  slowly  and  cautiously. 
To  parody  Byron's  lines — 

'  ' '  The  feat  performed  I — boots  it  well  or  ill, 

Since  not  to  tumble  down  is  something  still.  .  .  ." ' 

''May  10. 
'  I  thought  that  my  birthday  would  pass  over  very  quietly  and 
silently,  as  it  fell  on  a  Sunday.  .  .  .  But  my  Native  friends  would 
not  let  me  go  without  my  birthday  tamasha,  merely  delaying  it  till  the 
Monday.  I  could  not  regret  it,  for  certainly  it  was  one  of  the  most 
gratifying  evenings  that  I  have  ever  enjoyed.  We  had  our  feast, 
given  by  the  Singhas,  on  the  top  of  their  house,  with  the  glorious 
dark-blue  sky  as  our  ceiling,  and  our  lamp  the  beautiful  moon.  .  .  . 
I  was  presented  with  a  Batala  scarf  or  chaddah,  for  which  my  dear 
boys  had  subscribed.  A  wonderful  chaddah  it  is,  with  borders  of 
red  and  gold.  I  thought  by  moonlight  that  the  colour  was  grey.  .  ,  . 
In  the  morning  I  saw  the  exceedingly  gay  green^  of  which  I  enclose 
a  thread.  ...  It  is  precious  to  me,  as  a  token  of  affection. 

1  Custom. 


346  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

'The  Native  Christians  not  unfrequently  subscribe  to  give  a 
parting  gift  to  a  Missionary  whom  they  love,  when  starting  for 
England  ;  but  I  suppose  they  thought  that,  in  my  case,  if  they  waited 
for  that  they  would  never  give  me  anything,  and  that  it  was  no  harm 
to  present  me  with  something  for  not  going  away  !  Mr.  K.  was 
rather  astonished  at  the  wild  bhajans,  which  he  declares  are  all  on 
one  note — but  that  is  a  mistake — but  he  says  that  they  helped  to  cure 
his  earache  ;  a  very  curious  and  novel  effect,  which  I  never  knew 
before  to  belong  to  a  bhajan  !  .  .  . 

'  I  think,  love,  that  these  little  particulars  will  amuse  you.  I  write 
playfully,  but  the  real  undermost  feeling  in  my  heart  is  that  of  humble 
gratitude  to  Him  from  Whom  all  blessings  flow, — the  love  of  true  and 
God-fearing  hearts  being  one  of  the  most  precious  of  those  blessings.' 

TO   MRS.  J.    BOSWELL. 

^  March  17,  1881. 
*  The  Hindus  appear  to  be  particularly  silly  at  this  time  of  the 
year.    They  throw  about  coloured  water,  so  as  to  make  almost  all 
the  white  dresses  of  their  companions  look  dirty  and  disreputable. 

My  poor came  particularly  badly  off,  for  he  not  only  had  three 

times  his  raiment  dirtied,  but  his  hand  rather  severely  hurt.  Said  I 
to  him,  "Do  you  think  such  a  religion  is  from  God?"  "It  is 
devilish,"  he  frankly  assented.  "  A  devilish  religion  ;  a  devilish 
deed."  "  Why  do  you  not  leave  it  ? "  The  poor  fellow  was  silent. 
It  is  not  faith  in  his  nonsensical  religion  that  holds  him  back,  but 
love  of  social  ties  and  surroundings.' 

TO  MRS.    HAMILTON. 

'■April  13. 
'Our  good  pastor  Sadiq  and  I  had  a  long  talk  together  to-day. 
We  two  almost,  as  it  were,  form  a  little  party  by  ourselves  ;  we 
are  regular  old-fashioned  Panjabis,  something  like  Saxons  after 
the  Norman  Conquest.  Sadiq  highly  approves  of  this  school, 
because  we  don't  Anglicise  the  boys.  .  .  .  But  the  Anglicising  tide 
runs  too  fast  for  Sadiq  and  me.  We  get  spoilt  by  Batala,  where 
there  are  no  Europeans  or  Eurasians.  .  .  .  This  is  a  grand  transition 
time  in  India  ;  and  the  Conservatism,  which  I  drank  in  at  old  No.  3, 
remains  in  me  like  an  instinct  now.  I  would  keep  everything  un- 
changed that  is  not  wrong  or  foolish — and  there  is  such  a  fearful 
amount  of  things  that  are  wrong  and  foolish,  that  one  might  think 
that  to  get  rid  of  them  would  give  all  occupation  sufficient.  But  I 
know  that  I  am  old-fashioned,  and  live  too  much  in  one  groove  to  be 
able  to  judge  correctly.' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  347 

Tfp  y^^%,  E— 

'July  29,  1 88 1. 

'  You  have  perhaps  heard  that  I  am  to  have  a  charming  lady  to  be 
with  me  ;  for  my  adopted  nephew,  the  Rev.  F.  H.  Baring,  is  bringing 
out  a  lovely  bride,  one  whom  I  know  well,  and  whom  I  have  been 
accustomed  to  call  my  Queen-Lily,  because  she  is  so  tall  and  fair. 
I  expect  her  to  do  Mission-work  much  better  than  I  can  ;  and  will 
not  our  boys  love  her  !  They  seem  to  have  made  up  their  minds 
that  she  is  to  be  their  mother ;  so  she  will  have  a  fine  large  family 
to  look  after,  thirty-seven  boys,  or  more  ;  some  of  them  really  not 
boys,  but  men.  Rowland  Bateman  is  to  perform,  or  rather,  I  believe, 
has  performed,  the  marriage  service  for  his  friend.  We  expect  to 
have  grand  rejoicings  here  on  the  arrival  of  the  happy  pair.  It  was 
a  feast  to  see  the  way  in  which  the  news  of  their  Principal's  engage- 
ment was  received  by  his  boys.  .  .  .  There  was  such  clapping  and 
delight,  that  you  might  have  thought  all  the  boys  were  going  to  be 
married  themselves  ! ' 

TO  MRS.    HAMILTON. 

'  Sept.  4,  1 88 1. 

'  I  visited  to-day  a  poor  mother  who  has  lost  a  fine  little  boy. 
I  seated  myself  amongst  the  mourners,  and  talked  with  the  mother. 
What  she  said  gave  me  a  gleam  of  hope  regarding  the  child  of 
ten.  He  had  till  lately  attended  our  Mission  School,  so  of  course 
had  received  religious  instruction.  He  had  the  opportunity  also 
of  learning  something  in  the  Zenana,  and  knew  Christian  Hymns. 
His  illness  was  very  short ;  and  what  he  said  no  one  could 
understand ;  but,  as  his  mother  assured  me  more  than  once,  "  he 
smiled  twice."  This  seems  but  a  sunbeam  to  build  upon ;  yet  as  I 
have  never  known  or  heard  of  Muhammadans  or  Heathen  smiling 
when  about  to  die, — the  death-smile  seems  exclusively  Christian  ! — 
I  cannot  but  hope  that  the  dear  little  fellow  had  looked  to  the 
Saviour.  I  told  the  mother  of  the  hope  in  my  mind,  and  spoke  to 
the  weeping  little  brother  also.' 

'  Oct.  3. — It  is  a  real  pleasure  to  look  forward  to,  that  of  welcoming 
the  Barings  back,  and  placing  the  reins  in  younger  and  stronger 
hands  than  my  own.  Not  a  giving  up  of  work,  please  God,  but  a 
lightening  of  responsibility.  How  often  we  say  or  think,  "Oh,  we'll 
leave  that  till  the  Padri  Sahib  comes."  He  is  to  do  the  thinking  and 
ordering  and  arrangement  in  his  little  bishopric.  As  for  sweet, 
lovely  Margaret,  I  expect  to  see  her  gentle  influence  bearing  on  all 


348  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

sides.     We  are  not  likely  to  disagree,  unless  it  be  on  the  subject  of 
who  is  to  sing  first,  and  who  is  to  take  the  coveted  second  part.' 

'Peshawar,  Oct.  i8,  1881.— A  large  military  station  like  Pesha- 
war is  rather  a  contrast  to  Batala.  But,  poor  India  !  Where  one 
sees  less  of  the  enemy  attacking  in  one  direction,  we  find  him  ad- 
vancing in  another.  Over  the  Hindus  and  Muhammadans  he  throws 
the  chains  of  Superstition,  Idolatry,  Self-righteousness, — he  makes 
them  choose  a  murderer  instead  of  the  Prince  of  Life.  For  the 
Europeans  he  has  coldness,  deadness,  infidelity !  I  noticed  at 
Church  that  but  one  man  stayed  to  Holy  Communion.' 

'■Nov.  7. — I  am  so  much  stronger  after  my  visit  to  Peshawar, — quite 
a  different  being.  It  must  be  a  comfort  to  Babu  Singha,  who  thought 
me  ageing  with  wonderful  rapidity.  But  at  Peshawar  I  took  a  back- 
ward spring.  I  was  more  than  six  hours  to-day  on  an  expedition  to 
the  village  of  Urduhi,  going  in  my  duli  ;  and  I  was  very  little  tired, 
— quite  ready  for  Henry  vill.  and  his  six  wives  in  the  afternoon,  and 
for  Agamemnon  and  Achilles  in  the  evening.  It  is  amusing  to  go 
back  to  the  old  stories  one  read  in  one's  childhood.' 

TO   MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON, 

'Nov.  22,  1881. 

'  The  visit  of  the  two  Bishops,^  Mr.  Clark,  and  the  Chaplain,  Mr. 
Deedes,  went  off  beautifully.  Everybody  seemed  pleased  with 
Batala ;  and  the  Bishop  of  Calcutta  wrote  such  handsome  things  in 
the  school-book,  that  I  am  sure  dear  Babu  Singha  was  gratified. 
The  Bishop  of  Calcutta  is  a  striking-looking  man  ;  tall,  with  a  simple, 
unaffected  dignity.  .  .  .  He  gives  one  the  impression  of  both  physical 
and  intellectual  strength,  combined  with  true  piety.  As  the  vigorous, 
energetic  practical  man,  he  forms  an  interesting  contrast  to  the 
fragile-looking,  saintly  Bishop  of  Lahore.  Then  Mr.  Clark  has  a 
calm  charm  of  his  own, —  described  by  a  lad  as  "looking  like  an 
angel,  with  his  beautiful  white  beard."  .  .  . 

'  Of  course  we  had  a  feast.  Then  followed  brief  recitations  from 
Shakespeare,  and  choruses.  To-day  the  school  was  examined  in 
Scripture,  and  pleased  the  Bishop.  We  had  Divine  Service,  and  an 
interesting,  forcible  sermon,  well  translated,  sentence  by  sentence,  by 
Mr.  Clark.  The  Bishop  of  Calcutta  afterwards  went  over  the  place, 
examining  the  boys'  beds,  etc,  struck  at  Native  lads  having  such 
clean  sheets,  and  at  hearing  that  they  were  changed  weekly.  He 
kindly  visited  our  poor  sick  M.,  who  is  much  better,  thank  God, 

1  The  Bishop  of  Calcutta  and  the  Bishop  of  Lahore. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  349 

though  still — after  six  weeks — confined  to  bed.  I  gave  my  guests 
plenty  to  eat  ;  and  my  bottle  of  wine  held  out  bravely,  two  of  the 
gentlemen  preferring  tea,  while  the  wine-drinkers  were  very  moderate. 
I  had  to  manage  a  little  to  make  my  furniture  suffice  for  four  guests. 
There  was  a  little  borrowing,  but  not  much.  I  put  two  of  your  sweet 
mother's  lovely  tidies,  quite  fresh,  over  chair  and  sofa,  to  look  elegant. 
I  wore  the  pretty  cap,  trimmed  with  blue,  and  my  graceful  grey  dress, 
both  gifts  from  No.  31.^ 

'  The  Bishop  of  Calcutta,  before  leaving,  kindly  put  into  my  hand 
a  note  for  100  rupees.  I  asked  him  to  what  purpose  I  should  apply 
it ;  he  replied  to  whatever  purpose  I  liked  ;  so  I  at  once  decided  on 
our  City  Mission  School,  our  Batala  Plough^  which  has  almost  come 
to  the  end  of  its  means,  and  must  on  no  account  be  suffered  to  drop 
through.     I  was  very  glad  of  the  seasonable  supply. 

'  Now  all  the  boys'  thoughts  are  turned  to  the  reception  of  the 
dear  Barings.  The  Natives  take  the  whole  affair  into  their  own 
hands,  I  merely  helping  by  paying  for  the  refreshments.  I  see  a 
wooden  arch  in  course  of  erection,  and  hundreds — perhaps  a  thou- 
sand— little  earthen  lamps  cumbering  our  hall.  Perhaps  the  Bishops 
wondered  what  all  those  funny  little  concerns  could  be  for.  There 
are  to  be  fireworks  too  ;  but  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  either  illumi- 
nation or  fireworks.' 

Before  the  end  of  November  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baring 
arrived,  to  be  received  lovingly  by  Charlotte  Tucker,  and 
enthusiastically,  not  by  the  boys  alone,  or  even  by  the 
Christians  alone,  but  by  many  of  the  people  of  Batala. 
On  the  9th  of  December  a  letter  went  from  Mrs.  Baring 
home : — 

*  My  dear  Mrs.  Hamilton, — I  have  but  few  uninterrupted 
minutes,  but  long  to  send  you  at  least  a  few  lines,  to  assure  you  that 
your  beloved  sister  is  well.  She  gave  us  a  most  delightful  welcome;  and 
a  very  great  joy  it  is  to  be  with  her.  I  thought  her  looking  extremely 
white  and  thin,  although  not  lacking  in  her  wonted  energy,  when  we 
first  came.  Now  I  think  she  is  looking  a  little  better ;  and  we  shall 
tenderly  watch  over  her,  and  cherish  her,  so  far  as  she  will  allow  us  ; 
but  I  assure  you  it  is  very  hard  work  to  persuade  her  to  reduce  her 
work,  or  to  increase  her  nourishment.  I  see  that  my  best  plan  is 
quietly  to  put  things  in  her  way  that  may  be  strengthening,  but  not 

1  Mrs.  Hamilton's  house. 


350  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

to  trouble  her  by  pressing;  and  to  ensure  soups,  puddings,  etc., 
being  all  thoroughly  nutritious,  so  that  the  amount  she  does  take 
may  all  do  her  real  good.  And  as  to  the  work,  I  hope  she  will 
gradually  let  me  have  part  of  it,  leaving  herself  more  time  for 
writing. 

'You  will  be  pleased  to  see  how  the  people  love  and  honour  her. 
The  tahsildar^  came  one  day  to  see  us  ;  and  reverently  bowing  his 
head  before  her,  he  asked  her  to  lay  her  hand  upon  it,  and  pray  for 
him, — which  she  did,  most  earnestly  asking  that  Heavenly  light  might 
be  poured  into  his  soul.  I  think  she  is  very  wise  in  her  dealings  with 
the  Christians,  but  is  apt  to  over-estimate  some  of  the  heathen, — and 
to  cast  precious  "  pearls  before  swine,"  at  too  great  an  expense  of  her 
own  time  and  strength.  However,  I  am  perhaps  mistaken  about 
this.  We  must  pray  that  all  her  loving  efforts  may  be  abundantly 
blessed,  and  that  she  may  be  allowed  the  joy  of  seeing  some  fruit  of 
her  city  labours.  Among  the  boys  she  has  been  much  blessed.  I 
hope  to  write  often,  if  you  will  kindly  excuse  my  notes  being  hurried. 
Much  love  to  dear  Leila.  Kindest  remembrances  to  Mr.  Hamilton. — 
Ever  yours  lovingly,  Margaret.' 

One  little  touch  of  depression  had  appeared  a  few  weeks 
earlier,  in  a  letter  written  before  the  visit  of  the  Bishops, 
wherein  Miss  Tucker  alluded  to  a  slight  sketch  or  account 
of  herself  which  had  been  inserted  in  a  Missionary  peri- 
odical. The  tone  of  sadness  was  probably  due  to  those 
long  city  labours,  spoken  of  by  Mrs.  Baring,  so  few  results 
of  which  could  then  be  detected. 

'•Nov.  1 6,  1 88 1. — .  .  .  Last  Sunday  was  my  sixth  Indian  birthday  ; 
it  fell  on  a  Sunday,  like  my  natural  one.  In  1880  I  felt  joyous  on  my 
Indian  birthday.  Somehow  or  other  I  had  quite  a  different  sensation 
this  year.     I  felt  so  dissatisfied  with  myself, — my  work  seemed  all 

sowing,  and  never  reaping !     Oh,  what  a  false  impression  the  

gives  of  me  !     And  Miss  never  published  my  refutation.  .  .  . 

Do  you  remember  the  noble  lines  in  "  Camoens  " — 

' ' '  Praise  misapplied 

Is  to  the  generous  mind  not  callous  grown 

A  burning  cautery." 

'  I  do  not  mean  that  I  am  burnt ;  but  I  feel  like  one  breathing  an 
unwholesome,  sickly  odour.     Here  is  the  Bishop  of  Calcutta  wanting 

1  Native  official. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  351 

to  see  me  ;  he  has  probably  been  reading  some  painted  description, 
and  imagines  me  a  highly  capable  and  successful  Missionary.     O 

dear  !     O  dear  !     If  Miss had  only  published  my  honest,  blunt 

letter ! ' 

For  once  in  this  little  fit  of  down-heartedness,  she  seems 
to  have  somewhat  lost  her  usual  balanced  view  of  the 
comparative  unimportance  of  seemingly  successful '  results.' 
But  if  in  all  these  years  of  toil  Charlotte  Tucker  had 
never  known  depression,  she  would  have  been  more  than 
human.  Even  her  brave  and  dauntless  spirit  had 
occasionally  to  pass  under  a  cloud ;  more  often,  as  years 
passed  on,  and  strength  decayed.  This  time  it  had  been 
a  very  slight  one  ;  and  the  coming  of  her  two  dear  friends 
had  brought  bright  sunshine  into  her  life. 

Early  in  the  next  year  another  letter  went  to  Mrs. 
Hamilton  from  the  bride  : — 

''Jan.  21,  1882. 

'  Dearest  Mrs.  Hamilton,— I  often  want  to  have  a  chat  with 
you, — so  often  !  But  now  how  impossible  it  is  to  go  to  the  bright, 
home-like  drawing-room  at  Leinster  Square  to  have  it !  I  must 
therefore  just  be  content  with  pen  and  ink. 

'  Your  own  beloved  one  writes  so  regularly  that  you  hear  all  Batala 
news ;  but  you  do  not,  I  fancy,  hear  much  about  her  own  dear  self. 
She  had  certainly  overdone  before  we  came,  and  naturally,  after  six 
years  of  such  continuous  effort,  in  a  climate  such  as  this,  she  looks 
aged;  but  she  is  really  just. as  full  of  brightness  as  ever,  and  her 
spirit  is  unflagging  in  its  loving  efforts  for  all  around  her.  It  is 
indeed  a  privilege  and  ioy  to  have  her  here.  Just  at  present  she  has 
a  troublesome  cold,  caught  by  going  out  in  the  foggy  morning  of 
last  week ;  but  I  trust  it  will  soon  yield  to  remedies.  She  is  cosily 
resting  in  an  arm-chair  by  the  log-fire  beside  me,  and  has  allowed 
me  to  take  a  little  care  of  her  to-day.  The  Native  doctor  comes 
every  day  to  see  the  boys  ;  so  if  anything  is  wrong  with  her  we  have 
him  upstairs,  to  have  a  chat  and  prescribe.  He  is  a  very  superior 
man,  and  she  has  great  confidence  in  him. 

'She  will  have  told  you  of  the  possibility  of  a  Mrs.  R.  coming 
out  to  join  us  as  a  Medical  Bible-woman.  .  .  .  Not  only  would  she 
be  very  useful  in  the  Zenanas,  and  in  taking  care  of  the  little  boys, 


352  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

but  also  in  taking  a  look-out  for  our  dear  one  when  we  are  absent. 
.  .  .  My  husband  thinks  of  adding  a  room  and  dressing-room  to  The 
Aloes  for  Mrs.  R.  if  she  comes  ;  so  she  would  be  quite  near  us. 
.  .  .  Dinner  is  announced,  so  I  must  say  farewell.  The  dear  Auntie 
kindly  consents  to  let  a  little  low  table  be  drawn  close  to  the  fire  in 
the  drawing-room  for  her  to-day,  as  the  dining-room  is  very  cold  in 
this  weather.  .  .  .' 

C.    M.    T.   TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

^  Jan.  23,  1882. 

'  It  was  rather  naughty  in  Margaret  to  tell  you  that  I  had  a  cold  ; 
1  did  not  know  that  she  would  be  such  a  blab  !  However,  she  is  not 
an  easy  person  to  be  angry  with.  I  think  that  dear  kind  Doctor, 
B.  D.,  is  quite  pleased  with  me.  He  thinks  that  I  have  done 
more  in  the  way  of  getting  well  in  twenty-four  hours  than  I  should 
have  done  in  a  week  had  I  been  a  Zenana  lady,  because  I  should  not 
have  obeyed  him.  The  Natives  are  so  very  lazy  about  anything  in 
illness  which  involves  any  trouble.  .  .  .  Dear  Margaret  and  Francis 
take  great  care  of  me, — coddle  me  ! '  (Then  comes  a  pleased 
reference  to  the  thought  of  the  Medical  Bible-woman  for  the  next 
cold  weather.)  'It  was  such  an  utterly  unexpected  thing.  ...  It  is 
so  nice  to  meet  with  a  servant  of  a  true  Missionary  spirit.  Of  course 
she  will  need  taking  care  of  herself.  I  told  Francis  that  he  should 
calculate  on  her  pankah  costing  £^  a  year.  I  do  not  need  as  much 
fanning  as  some  Europeans  do  ;  but  I  count  my  pankah  as  that 
expense  ;  and  it  would  be  folly  to  grudge  it.  You  see,  in  the  Panjab, 
if  you  wish  to  sleep  at  night,  you  must  have  a  pankah  in  the  hot 
weather  even  at  midnight,  unless  you  can  sleep  in  the  open  air, — 
which  I  find  impracticable  in  a  boys'  school ;  and  I  do  not  see  how 
good  Mrs.  R.  could  manage  it.  .  .  . 

'  Aunt  L.'s  book  is  very  amusing,  even  to  a  grown-up  person  ; 
there  is  such  vigour  in  the  attitudes,  and  the  colouring  is  just  suited 
for  Orientals.  I  think  of  taking  it  with  me  when  I  pay  my  long- 
promised  visit  to  Clarkabad.  I  hope  to  invade  the  heathen  there 
and  not  confine  myself^please  God — to  the  Christian  village.  I  feel 
a  special  interest  in  Clarkabad,  on  account  of  my  dear  Rowland.  The 
lovely  little  gem  of  a  church,  partly  the  work  of  his  own  hands,  gives 
a  charm  to  the  spot.  Now  the  presence  of  the  excellent  Beutels  will 
add  to  it. 

'  I  expect  to  find  some  of  the  flock  very  troublesome  folk  ;  but  that 
is  what  Missionaries  must  expect.     These  big  brown  families  have 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  353 

their  prodigals  and  sloths  and  backsliders.  What  is  to  be  expected 
from  those  who  have  had  so  little  light  for  generation  after  genera- 
tion? We  should  hail  every  symptom  of  improvement.  The 
European  idea  of  a  Missionary  standing  under  a  tree,  preaching, — 
and  numbers  listening,  understanding,  and  welcoming  the  Word  of 
Life, — is  often  a  fancy  picture,  or  gives  a  most  imperfect  view  of  the 
truth.  The  seeking  to  win  souls  is  but  one  part  of  the  real  work. 
'  Only  think  what  a  regular  workshop  of  thought  has  been  going 

on  in  the  heads  of  such  men  as  — —  and .    A.  is  weak  ;  how  is 

he  to  be  shielded  from  temptation  ?  j5.  is  a  stupid,  lazy  fellow  ;  how 
is  he  to  be  made  to  work  ?  What  is  to  be  done  about  C's  heathen 
wife  ?  Are  not  Z>.'s  children  growing  up  like  weeds  ?  Can  we 
manage  to  find  employment  for  E.  or  a  Christian  wife  for  F.  ?  It  is 
this  "  care  of  the  Churches "  which  was  a  burden  to  St.  Paul,  and  I 
suppose  has  been  a  burden  to  most  of  his  most  earnest  successors. 
It  is  not  a  thing  to  tell  in  a  Report,  or  to  draw  out  enthusiasm  in  a 
Missionary  meeting.  But  we  know,  darling,  that  if  a  farmer  went 
over  a  huge  field,  simply  scattering  grain,  perhaps  on  ground  even 
unploughed,  and  then  went  home,  quite  sure  that  all  would  go  right, 
that  he  had  only  to  go  on  for  ever  sowing  and  a  harvest  would 
certainly  rise,  he  would  hardly  be  likely  to  garner  a  crop.  .  .  .  One 

such  matured,  ripened  Convert  as is  worth  a  hundred  of  those 

whose  conduct  shows  that  they  hardly  deserve  the  name  of  Christians.' 

In  the  course  of  this  January  she  wrote  lovingly  to  her 
sister :  '  It  touched  my  heart  that  you  should  have  had 
"grief"  in  your  dreams  about  parting  again  with  your 
Char !  The  wrench  of  saying  "  Farewell "  is  what  one 
cannot  help  shrinking  from.' 

But  despite  the  pain  of  long  separation  from  those 
whom  she  most  loved,  and  despite  many  cares  and 
anxieties  this  year  in  her  work,  Miss  Tucker  still  kept  her 
health.  Mrs.  Baring,  writing  early  in  February,  could 
say :  *  I  am  so  very  glad  to  be  able  to  assure  you  that 
your  precious  sister  is  much  better,  really  looking  well ; 
though  perhaps  not  quite  so  strong  as  in  the  days  when 
she  could  easily  outstrip  me  in  a  walk,  or  work  from  4  A.M. 
to  10  P.M.  without  feeling  very  tired.'  Few  women  at 
their  strongest  could  emulate  such  a  day's  work,  and  not 
z 


354  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

feel  'very  tired'  at  the  end.  It  Is  hardly  surprising  that 
at  the  age  of  sixty  she  should  not  continue  ^  quite  so 
strong.' 

Money  for  the  proposed  Church  had  been  flowing  in  ; 
yet  still  it  was  not  begun.  *  We  have  been,  I  think/  Miss 
Tucker  wrote,  *  for  nearly  two  and  a  half  years  trying  to 
buy  a  good  site,  but  the  Natives  will  not  sell  one  to  us. 
We  cannot  build  on  air.  We  have  the  money — and  the 
will  to  buy — but  we  must  wait  God's  time.'  A  little 
hospital  also  was  planned,  but  the  same  difficulties  pre- 
sented themselves  as  to  a  suitable  site,  and  delays  were 
unavoidable. 

Here  comes  a  melancholy  little  touch  of  the  sad  side 
of  Missionary  work — that  side  which  must  inevitably 
exist  in  everything  belonging  to  this  world  : — 

*  Perhaps  you  sometimes  wonder  at  my  so  often  making  the  special 
request  for  prayer  for  wisdom.  But  oh,  love,  if  you  knew  the  puzzling 
cases  which  meet  us  !  I  observe  that  experienced  and  sensible 
Natives  are  taken  in ;  so  can  we  wonder  at  being  so  ?  I  will  just 
give  you  a  specimen  case  where  we  have  not  been  taken  in,  because 
warned  in  time.  I  have  not  even  seen  the  woman  in  question ;  I 
suppose  that  the  parties  found  out  that  we  have  had  notice.  ...  A 
woman  professes,  I  hear,  to  be  an  inquirer.  She  wishes  baptism. 
Why?  A  Muhammadan  man  is  at  the  bottom  of  her  inclination 
towards  Christianity.  The  woman  is  of  low  caste,  so  that  the  man 
would  be  degraded  by  marrying  her,  as  he  desires  to  do.  Let  her 
become  a  Christian, — that  will  be  a  kind  of  white-washing  for  her, — 
she  will  be  received  amongst  us,  be  able  to  eat  with  us,  etc.  Then 
the  Muhammadan  is  to  pervert  her  to  the  faith  of  Islam,  and  gain 
credit  for  converting  a  Christian,  instead  of  disgrace  for  marrying  a 

Mitrani.^  .  .  .  We  hope  for  more  than  twenty  baptisms  in  C , 

but  Francis  is  in  no  hurry  to  baptize,  nor  I  to  write  to  Miss  

about  our  hopes.  I  think  that  I  have  gained  more  experience  in 
this  my  seventh  year  than  any  other;  and  dear  Francis  has  also 
greatly  added  to  his.  One  of  the  parts  of  this  experience  is  the 
finding  out  our  need  of  wisdom  from  above.  Only  God  knows  the 
heart !    Do  not  suppose  me  dismayed,  or  that  I  cease  to  value  the 

1  Very  low  caste. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  355 

dear  Natives ;  but  it  is  almost  sad  to  me  to  see  that  self-confidence 
which  often  arises  from  lack  of  experience.' 

Miss  Tucker  might  well  have  said  'very'  instead  of 
'  almost '  sad.  Certain  words  in  a  letter  of  Mrs.  Baring's 
to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  soon  after,  are  something  of  an  echo 
to  the  above  : — 

'The  blessing  she  (Miss  Tucker)  is  among  those  Christian  boys  is 
incalculable.  Perhaps  Eternity  will  show  even  more  fruit  from  her 
bright,  loving,  holy  influence  over  them,  than  over  the  people  in  the 
city.  They  are  more  able  to  appreciate  her  character  and  teaching 
than  the  poor  degraded  heathen,  to  whom  she  is  much  more  like  an 
angel  afar  off  and  above  them,  than  a  sister-woman  whom  they  may 
seek  to  follow  and  grow  like. 

'  She  does  love  the  boys,  and  is  in  her  element  among  them  ;  and 
they  have  one  and  all  a  chivalrous  admiration  for  her.  These  years 
in  India  have  taught  her  some  things,  I  can  see.  Formerly  her 
purse  was  open  to  every  one  ;  now  she  has  the  same  generous  spirit, 
guided  by  caution  and  experience.  This  winter's  painful  lessons  in 
the  fallibility  of  our  best  Native  Christians  have  been  to  her  a  very  sore 
discipline,  and  to  us  too ;  but  it  is  really  safer  for  us  all  to  know 
exactly  how  far  we  dare  trust,  than  to  be  thinking  those  saints  who 
are  very  far  from  it.' 

A  touching  little  episode  about  this  time  is  related 
in  letters  from  both  A.  L.  O.  E.  and  Mrs.  Baring.  The 
latter  had  been  much  grieved  by  quarrelling  in  one  of 
the  Muhammadan  schools ;  and  she  told  her  Pandit  or 
teacher  about  it.  He  was  a  Sikh,  who  knew  much  of 
Christianity,  though  not  yet  a  Convert.  The  kind  words 
which  came  in  answer  were  certainly  not  what  might 
have  been  expected  from  a  heathen.  '  But  do  not  be  sad 
in  heart,'  urged  the  Pandit.  Satan  is  strong,  but  God 
is  stronger.  He  will  hear  your  prayers.'  The  speaker 
could  surely  have  been  heathen  only  in  name. 

In  the  end  of  May  it  became  needful  for  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Baring  to  go  to  a  cooler  spot,  leaving  Miss  Tucker  in 
charge  at  Batala, — once  more  to  be  the  only  European  in 
that  city.     It  seemed  no  great  matter  to  her,  and  she 


356  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

wrote  as  usual  very  cheerily  about  it  beforehand.  Little 
dreamt  she  that  this  was  to  be  a  final  parting ;  that  she 
and  her  beloved  '  Queen  Lily ' — her  *  Angel-friend ' — would 
never  meet  again  in  this  life ! 

''May  20,  1882. — The  day  after  to-morrow  my  dear  friends  are  to 
leave  me  for  the  Hills.  You  must  not  be  sad  about  it,  for  I  am  quite 
happy  ;  indeed,  it  will  be  rather  a  comfort  to  me  for  them  to  go,  sweet 
as  is  their  society,  and  valuable  as  is  their  affection.  Francis  stands 
heat  so  very  badly.  .  .  .  Margaret  too  loses  her  pretty  pink  roses, 
and  gets  so  tired  when  she  goes  to  the  city.  On  the  other  hand,  / 
am  far  fitter  for  work  than  in  winter.  ...  It  is  a  mistake  in  kind 
friends  to  pity  me,  or  think  about  sacrifices  on  my  part,  for  the  lines 
have  fallen  to  me  in  a  fair  ground.  Of  course,  we  have  things  to 
trouble  us  ;  but  the  blessings  far,  far  outweigh  the  trials.' 

''May  23. — Dear  Francis  and  Margaret  started  last  night,  the 
young  May  moon  and  the  stars  shining  beautifully.  It  was  a 
picturesque  scene.  The  carriage  had  a  lamp  within  it,  as  well  as  one 
or  two  outside ;  the  light  gleamed  on  our  crowd  of  boys  and  men, 
mostly  in  white  garments.  Loud  was  the  cheer  when  our  dear  ones 
drove  off.  .  .  . 

'Well,  love,  I  and  our  boys  returned  to  Anarkalli.  I  did  not  feel 
lonely.  I  went  to  bed  under  the  swinging  pankah ;  and  was  ere 
long  wrapped  in  repose.  O  what  a  startling  waking  at  about  3  A.M. 
What  an  uproar  ! — what  a  fierce  sound  of  struggle  breaks  on  the 
silence  of  night, — the  call  for  help — the  whack  of  blows, — it  reaches 
Babu  Singha's  ears  at  the  Banyans,  and  brings  him  in  haste  from  his 
bed, — but  not  till  the  conflict  is  over.  I  start  up,  and  am  at  the 
window  in  a  minute  ;  but  the  moon  has  gone  down  ;  there  is  only 
starlight ;  nothing  can  I  see,  though  much  can  I  hear.  I  recognise 
the  loud,  manly  voice  of  G.,  our  Christian  bihisti.^  I  think  that 
he  is  catching  a  thief,  and  that  the  thief  has  the  worst  of  it.  Of  course, 
boys  and  men  come  running.  I  hear  a  call  for  rope, — yes,  certainly 
a  thief  must  have  been  caught. 

'  Presently  a  wee  light  is  brought.  I  can  see,  almost  below  my 
window,  an  object  crouching  on  the  ground,  surrounded  by  our 
people.  They  have  bound  him  ;  they  are  examining  his  face.  There 
is  a  great  deal  of  noise  and  talking  for  twenty  minutes  or  more  ; 
and  then  the  robber  is  evidently  led  away,  and  I  retire  again  to  rest. 

1  Water-carrier, 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  357 

My  heart  beat  no  faster,  but  it  certainly  would  have  beaten  faster, 
had  I  known  the  extent  of  dear,  brave  G.'s  danger.  When  I  came 
down  in  the  morning,  there  was  the  robber,  in  iron  fetters,  with 
his  face  all  marked  with  blood, — with  the  police  around.  He  was 
crouching  on  the  ground,  a  picture  of  a  ruffian,  a  miserable  ruffian. 

*  Babu  Singha  told  me  that  there  had  been  jive  burglars  ;  but  only 
two  had  ventured  near  the  house.  Our  chaukidar^  .  .  .  gave  the 
alarm.  G.  rushed  to  the  rescue,  and  he  and  B,  between  them, 
with  some  help  from  the  dhobi,^  succeeded  in  catching  the  robber  ; 
but  not  without  G.  receiving  hurts  from  his  heavy  stick.  Babu 
Singha  told  me  that  the  robber  is  a  very  powerful  man.  But,  oh 
Laura,  what  gave  me  the  greatest  feeling  of  the  danger  G.  had 
been  in,  was  being  shown  the  razor  which  the  robber  had  had  about 
him.  It  had  been  dropped.  Thank  God,  that  had  not  been  used  ; 
indeed,  I  do  not  think  that  the  ruffian  had  been  given  time  to  use  it. 
If  he  had,  he  might  have  killed  G.  .  .  .' 

Two  months  of  busy  work  followed ;  towards  the  close 
of  which  came  another  adventure, — a  robber  again,  but 
this  time  one  on  four  legs  instead  of  two. 

^July  18,  1882. — Our  palace  was  invaded  by  a  wild  cat.  She 
caught  a  poor  pigeon  in  the  south  room,  carried  it  through  the 
dining-room  into  my  room,  and  left  its  half-eaten  remains  on  my 
floor.  Another  time  she  had  the  impertinence  to  crouch  on 
sleeping  C.^  A  wild  cat  is  not  a  pleasant  visitor ;  her  mode 
of  attack,  if  incensed,  being  to  spring  at  the  throat.  So  I  set  a 
price,  a  moderate  one,  on  the  wild  cat's  head.  She  came  again, — 
she  was  sure  to  do  so  to  a  house  where  boys  keep  pets,  and  where 
she  had  already  captured  a  pigeon.  At  night  I  heard  a  battle-royal 
going  on  over  my  head.  I  did  not  rise  ;  I  guessed  that  there  was  a 
furious  conflict  between  the  boys  and  the  wild  cat.  On  the  following 
morning  I  saw  the  animal  lying  dead,  and  paid  the  reward.' 

A  few  days  more,  and  the  bolt  fell.  News  came  that 
Mrs.  Baring  was  ill ;  and  that  her  husband,  away  from  her 
at  the  time,  had  hastened  back,  to  find  her  in  a  high  fever. 
Then  a  rather  better  report  arrived  ;  and  Charlotte  Tucker 
was  so  far  cheered  as  to  write  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  in  much 
her  usual  strain,  hoping  that  it  might  prove  to  be  '  only  a 

1  Watchman.  2  Washerman.  *  One  of  the  boys. 


358   LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

passing  indisposition.'  Before  this  letter  was  closed, 
tidings  were  received  that  all  was  over.  Erysipelas  had 
set  in,  the  fair  face  becoming  unrecognisable,  and  with  , 
little  warning  the  gentle  saint,  so  ready  to  go,  had  passed 
away.  It  was  a  very  heavy  blow  ;  and  though  Miss  Tucker, 
as  usual,  thought  far  more  of  what  others  felt  than  of  what 
she  felt  herself,  the  letters  written  afterwards  show  how 
much  she  suffered  : — 

''Aug.  9. — I  feel  as  if  I  did  not  care  to  write  much  save  on  one 
theme.  The  enclosed  letters,  which  you  will  read,  will  give  you 
particulars  of  the  sad,  sad  event,  which  must  have  shocked  you  much. 
.  .  .  How  little  I  dreamed,  when  I  saw  the  two  driven  ofif  in  the  dak- 
gari,  while  the  moonlight  fell  on  the  picturesque  scene,  that  one, 
and  that  the  stronger  one,  .  .  .  would  never  return  to  Batala  again  ! 
But  the  dear  Lord  knew  that  she  was  ready.  He  does  not  call  His 
children  to  mount  up  as  on  eagles'  wings  till  the  wings  are  fledged. 

*This  is  the  saddest  year  that  I  have  ever  passed  in  India.  .  .  .' 

''Aug.  II,  1882. — My  dearest  Leila,  I  doubt  not  that  both  you  and 
your  loved  Mother  have  shed  tears  over  sweet,  sweet  Margaret's  loss, 
— or  rather,  our  loss, — and  that  you  have  tenderly  sympathised  both 
with  my  poor  Bhatija  and  with  me.  This  has  been  a  year  of  succes- 
sive trials,  not  only  to  us  but  to  others  in  the  Mission  field, — a  time  to 
make  us  search  our  hearts  and  examine  our  work.  It  seems  almost 
as  if  my  two  Scripture  texts  at  present  are,  "  Faint,  yet  pursuing," — 
and  "  Lord,  we  have  toiled  all  night,  and  caught  nothing,  yet  at  Thy 
Word  we  will  let  down  the  net."  .  .  . 

'  It  seems  such  an  age  before  I  can  get  a  reply  to  any  letter 
addressed  to  Francis.  Time  goes  so  slowly  now  !  It  is  only  a  week 
to-day  since  I  received  the  startling  news.' 

The  especial  trials  referred  to,  apart  from  the  death  of 
Mrs.  Baring,  were  numerous  difficulties  and  disappoint- 
ments among  and  with  the  members  of  their  little  flock 
of  Indian  Christians.  One  trouble  had  followed  upon 
the  heels  of  another. 


CHAPTER    XII 

A.D.  1882-1883 
THE   FIRST   STONE  OF  BATALA  CHURCH 

About  the  middle  of  August  Miss  Tucker  went  for  change 
to  Allahabad  ;  and  very  soon  after  her  arrival  she  was  able 
to  speak  of  herself  as  'less  tired'  than  before  leaving 
Batala ;  despite  two  nights  of  severe  travelling,  inclusive 
of  sixteen  hours  straight  off  in  her  duli.  *  The  change  of 
air  already  tells  on  my  bodily  frame,'  she  wrote  ;  '  and  the 
change  of  scene  on  my  mind  and  spirits.  ...  I  was  becoming 
low  in  every  way.'  Before  the  end  of  September  she  was 
back  again  in  Batala ;  and  there  she  was  soon  joined  by 
Mr.  Baring,  after  his  most  sad  absence.  For  a  while,  but 
only  for  a  while,  Batala  was  still  to  be  his  home. 

In  October  for  the  first  time  the  idea  came  definitely  up 
of  building  a  '  Mission  Bungalow '  in  the  place,  an  idea 
which  afterwards  developed  into  A.  L.  O.  E.'s  last  earthly 
home. 

It  was  also  in  the  course  of  1882  that  some  one  wrote  a 
sketch  of  her  life,  and  requested  her  to  revise  the  same 
before  publication.  Miss  Tucker  had  not  attained  to 
modern  composure  on  such  questions,  and  she  wrote  with 
indignation :  *  I  am  afraid  .  .  .  neither  you  nor  others  may 

like  my  note  to .  ...  I  need  not  dwell  upon  the  part 

about  the  little  book  ;  it  is  too  personal  to  myself  What 
would  you  think  of  a  little  book  being  written  about 
yourself, — and  sent  to  you  to  correct  ?    Oh  !  Oh  ! !  Oh ! ! ! ' 


36o  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

For  some  time  past  Charlotte  Tucker  had  been  watching 
with  great  interest  the  movements  of  the  Salvation  Army 
in  India  ;  at  first  with  a  disposition  to  admire  and  approve, 
which  tendency  gave  place  gradually  to  strong  disap- 
proval, as  she  saw  more  of  the  methods  employed,  and 
found  the  exceedingly  defective  nature  of  the  religious 
teaching  given. 

Some  very  curious  glimpses  of  Indian  modes  of  life  and 
thought,  and  of  the  manner  in  which  Miss  Tucker  dealt 
with  them,  appear  in  the  letters. of  1882  and  1883,  as  will 
be  seen  in  succeeding  extracts.  Among  the  singular  things 
constantly  happening,  an  old  woman  in  a  Zenana,  at 
about  this  time,  composedly  offered  to  sell  to  A.  L.  O.  E. 
one  of  her  daughters-in-law.  '  If  you  will  give  me  a 
hundred  rupees,  you  may  have  her,'  the  old  woman  said 
frankly.  Needless  to  remark.  Miss  Tucker  did  not  buy 
the  poor  girl ! 

''Nov.  17,  1882. — I  had,  I  thought,  finished  my  Zenana-visiting 
to-day,  when  a  man,  at  a  loom  in  a  room  which  I  had  not  entered, 
called  out  to  me,  "  I  wish  a  Gospel.  I  want  to  compare  it  with  the 
Koran."  He  and  the  bibi  wanted  me  to  come  into  their  room ;  so 
of  course  I  went  and  sat  down.  Says  the  man,  "  I  think  my 
religion  good.  I  want  to  compare  our  books."  "  Much  better,"  said  I. 
The  man  brought  his  Koran,  a  translation  into  Urdu,  probably  made 
by  some  Christian,  or  at  least  printed  in  some  Christian  press.  The 
good  man  treated  me  to  such  a  long  reading  of  the  Koran,  page  after 
page,  I  did  not  know  when  he  would  stop  !  I  felt  it  not  only  common 
politeness  to  sit  and  listen  attentively,  but  good  policy  also,  for  how 
can  I  expect  an  earnest  Muhammadan  to  give  the  Gospel  a  fair  hear- 
ing, if  I  will  not  even  listen  to  the  Koran  ? 

'  The  man  was  anxious  that  I  should  understand  as  well  as  hear, 
stopping  every  now  and  then  to  translate  a  word  that  he  thought 
might  puzzle  me'.  But  the  Urdu  was  particularly  simple  for  anything 
doctrinal.  To  understand  anything  doctrinal,  even  such  sermons  as 
I  hear,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  know  some  Arabic  words.  I  have 
written  out  more  than  two  hundred,— chiefly  Arabic,—^//  beginning 
with  M,  and  mostly  three-syllabled  words,  which  I  feel  that  1  ought 
to  know ;  yet  they  are  hardly  of  any  use  with  women  ;  and  if  I  have 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  361 

them  all  at  my  fingers'  ends,  I  shall  still  be  very  imperfectly  furnished. 
Is  it  not  a  puzzling  language  ?  Of  course,  some  of  these  two  hundred 
words  are  provokingly  similar  to  each  other,  but  the  meaning  is 
different.' 

In  the  same  letter  she  mentions  a  visit  from  the  Indian 
Christian  Faqir,  M.,  who  a  quarter  of  a  century  before 
had  given  up  a  lucrative  situation,  and  ever  since  had 
wandered  about  India,  preaching  the  Gospel.  On  20th 
November  the  same  subject  recurs  : — 

'His  type  of  devotion  is  thoroughly  Hindu,  transfigured  into  Chris- 
tianity. .  .  .  One  part  of  our  ccnversation,  however,  amused  me.  .  .  . 
It  was  when  we  came  on  the  subject  of  celibacy.  The  Hindu 
evidently  thought  it  better  than  marriage.  He  seemed  to  regard  it 
as  an  objection  to  the  latter,  that  when  a  husband  lost  his  wife  he 
would  cry  for  two  or  three  days  ! — the  Faqir's  ^  religion  is  a  very 
joyful  one,  and  when  his  eyes  moisten  it  is  with  religious  emotion. 
I  stood  up  for  marriage.  The  dear  man  is  no  stern  ascetic  ;  he 
smiled  and  half  gave  way,  and  said  that  he  liked  people  to  be  happy. 
It  is  pretty  clear,  however,  as  regards  himself  that  it  is  better  for  him 
to  be  unwedded.  He  walks  long  distances  ;  sometimes  forty — fifty 
— sixty — miles.  He  says  that  he  is  not  so  strong  as  he  was.  But  he 
thinks  nothing  of  age  ;  the  spirit  never  grows  old.  .  .  .  M.'s  voice  is 
peculiar  ;  one  could  always  tell  without  seeing  him  whether  he  were 
in  chapel  or  not  ;  for  his  "  Amen  "  sounds  like  a  note  from  a  bassoon.' 

''Nov.  21,  1882. — While  it  is  fresh  in  my  mind  I  had  better  give  you 
a  description  of  our  grand  day,  the  laying  of  the  first  stone  of  our 
Church  by  the  Lieutenant-Governor.  .  .  . 

'  Since  the  old  days  of  the  Sikhs  I  doubt  whether  Batala  ever  saw 
such  a  tamasha.  Numbers  and  numbers  of  boys  were  gathered  to- 
gether by  dear  Francis,  lining  the  roads,  and  cheering.  Gay  looked 
the  many-coloured  turbans,  Mr.  Wade  thought  there  must  be  about 
one  thousand  boys,  for  we  had  Government  School,  City  School,  our 
Village  Schools,  and  our  own  boys.  We  had  a  fine  triumphal  arch  at 
the  opening  into  our  grounds,  with  "  Welcome  "  in  gold  on  scarlet ;  but  it 
was  far  surpassed  by  the  lovely  one  in  Persian  Urdu,  prepared  by  our 
boys  for  the  Church  site  :  "  Him  that  cometh  to  Me,  I  will  in  no  wise 
cast  out."  Dear  Emily  Wauton  came  and  helped  us  greatly ;  she 
specially  took  the  luncheon-table  under  her  care  ;  and  very  elegant 
it  looked,  with  the  cold  collation,  and  plenty  of  flowers  from  Amritsar. 
1  This  particular  Faqir,  Miss  Tucker  meant. 


362  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

My  bedroom  overlooks  our  front  door,  so  in  this  room  our  three 
pardah-nishin  were  hidden.  ...  I  dare  say  that  these  poor  prisoners  ^ 
of  pardah  specially  enjoyed  what  was  to  them  so  novel.  The  good 
Lieutenant-Governor  was  more  than  punctual ;  a  happy  thing,  as  we 
had  much  for  him  to  do,  and  only  about  an  hour  and  a  half  to  do  it  in. 
He  brought  with  him  his  daughter,  a  winsome  young  maiden,  .  .  . 
whom  I  called  "dear"  before  we  parted.  I  liked  the  Lieutenant- 
Governor  very  much  ;  a  man  of  fine  presence  but  simple  manners.  .  .  . 

'  The  luncheon  was  preceded  by  the  reading  by  one  of  the  Batala 
non-Christian  magnates  of  an  address,  emblazoned  with  gold  ;  other 
Batala  folk,  some  in  very  grand  dresses,  standing  in  line.  The 
Lieutenant-Governor  gave  a  reply  in  English,  which  I  doubt  whether 
many   understood.     Then  we  went  to   our    collation ;   fifteen  sat 

down.  .  .  .  You  should  have  seen  our  servant  ;  he  was  quite 

magnificent.  He  had  on  such  a  gold-adorned  pagri  that  it  might 
have  graced  the  head  of  a  rajah,  and  had  as  much  gold  on  his  dress. 
I  did  not  think  that  he  looked  like  a  Missionary's  servant,  but  we  left 
him  to  enjoy  his  splendour.  I  had  thought,  darling,  whether  I  should 
wear  your  silk  dress  :  ^  but  no,  thought  I  ;  in  my  Batala  I  will  not 
wear  silken  attire  ;  so  I  wore  my  Laura's  purple,  which  was  just  the 
thing,  sober  and  handsome.  The  collation  went  over  nicely  ;  we 
could  not  linger  at  it  long,  and  no  one  could  drink  too  much,  as  water 
was  our  beverage.  After  seeing  the  view  from  the  roof,  we  started 
in  the  borrowed  carriages  for  the  Church.  The  first  carriage,  which 
held  the  Aitchesons,  Mera  Bhatija,  and  myself,  had  highly  conser- 
vative horses,  decidedly  opposed  to  progress.  No  use  coaxing  and 
urging  them  ;  the  "  nat-khats  "  would  not  go.  The  only  thing  was  to 
get  out  and  go  into  another  carriage. 

'  Of  course,  there  were  many  people  at  the  site  of  our  church.  We 
had  four  surpliced  clergymen,  my  three  nephews,  Francis,  Mr.  Wade, 
and  Mr.  Weitbrecht,  and  Nobin  Chanda.^  .  .  .  The  religious  Service 
was  very  nice  ;  of  course,  in  Urdu.  Then  Sir  Charles  *  spread  mortar 
over  the  place  on  which  the  marble  block  was  to  descend,  in  what  was 
considered  a  very  workmanlike  manner.  We  sang  "  The  Church's 
One  Foundation  "  in  Urdu ;  Mr.  Weitbrecht's  and  Mr.  Wade's  fine 
voices  making  it  sound  so  well.  Sir  Charles  made  such  a  nice 
religious  speech  ;  it  was  almost  like  a  little  Missionary  address.  He 
had  had,  he  said,  a  very  private  conversation  for  an  hour  with  a 
Native  of  distinction,  who  was  in  concern  about  his  soul ;  and  it 
ended  by  the  Native  saying  that  he  had  sometimes  prayed  to  the 

1  Some  Native  ladies.  2  Mrs,  Hamilton's  gift, 

8  A  Native  clergyman.  *  sir  Charles  Aitcheson,  the  Lieutenant-Governor. 


CHARLOTTE  MART  A   TUCKER  363 

Lord  Jesus,  but  would  now  pray  to  Him  every  day.  Thank  God  for 
a  Lieutenant-Governor  who  thus  shows  his  Christian  colours  ! 

*  We  drove  to  the  station,  after  again  forsaking  the  carriage  drawn 
by  the  "nat-khats.''^  Sir  Charles  made  me  come  into  the  railway 
carriage,  to  see  its  comfortable  arrangements.  Thoughtful  Francis 
had  caused  tea  and  cake  to  be  taken  to  the  station.  All  went  off  so 
nicely ;  and  my  dear  Bhatija  feels  that  he  has  not  had  his  labour 
and  expense  for  nothing.' 

^  Nov.  28. — In  three  days  I  am  to  go  up  to  Amritsar,  .  .  .  where  I  am 
to  sleep  on  that  Friday  night ....  By  some  afternoon  train  I  shall 
probably  then  go  to  Lahore.  .  .  .  On  Sunday  there  are  to  be  special 
services  for  the  Conference,  and  Holy  Communion  is  to  be  admini- 
stered ;  a  meet  commencement  for  a  gathering  together  of  sisters 
from  nine  different  Societies.  But  Char  has  a  special  interest  of  her 
own.  We  have  at  least  a  dozen  of  those  who  were  Batala  boys  at 
Lahore.  ...  I  have  arranged  that  my  boys  should  meet  me  on 
Sunday  afternoon.  This  is  to  me  one  of  the  most  interesting 
parts  of  my  visit  to  Lahore.  ...  I  have  been  obliged  to  prepare 
two  little  papers,  but  have  made  them  mercifully  short.  I  think  that 
one  takes  about  five  and  the  other  three  minutes  to  read  aloud, — I 
timed  the  reading, — so  no  one  will  have  time  to  be  tired.' 

Of  the  above  event  Miss  Wauton  says:  'In  1882  she 
came  to  a  Conference  in  Lahore,  in  which  all  the  Zenana 
Missions  of  the  Panjab  were  represented,  and  was  with  one 
consent  elected  President  of  the  Meetings.  None  who  were 
present  could  ever  forget  the  tactful,  graceful  way  in  which 
she  conducted  the  proceedings.  Many,  I  believe,  felt  that 
the  harmonious  spirit,  which  prevailed  in  that  assembly, 
was  largely  due  to  the  loving  and  Catholic  spirit  of  our 
President' 

^  Dec.  15,  1882. — I  have  written  to  the  s  about  the  Salvation 

Meeting  at  Lahore,  at  which  I  was  present.  I  have  not  told  them, 
however,  how  sad  an  impression  it  left  on  my  mind.  ...  To  me 
there  was  no  real  joyousness  in  the  sound  of  the  drum  and  the  tam- 
bourines. .  .  .  The  puzzle  is  to  me  how  such  music  CAN  be  the 
means  of  converting  any,  unless  it  be  English  roughs.  X.^  was 
eager  to  join  the  "Army,"  and  go  with  them  for  a  month  to  Calcutta. 
But  he  went  to  the  meetings,  and  his  wish  appears  to  have  evaporated ; 

1  Naughty  ones.  2  a  young  Native. 


364  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

at  least  here  he  is.  .  .  .  The  prevailing  feeling  in  my  heart  (at  the 
meeting)  v}2.'s,—pity .  Though  I  knelt,  I  really  could  not  pray.  The 
big  drum  and  tambourines  seemed  to  silence  any  whisper  of  real 
devotion  in  my  soul.  ...  I  think  that  I  have  just  ascertained  one 
thing  which  has  cooled  our  really  devout  X.     It  appears  that  he 

asked  ^  about  Holy  Communion,  and  found  that  he  had  not 

received  it  since  coming  to  India  !  Alas  !  alas  !  and  if  he  lets 
Natives  consider  themselves  saved  and  sure  of  Heaven  without 
Baptism, — where  will  all  end?      The   Blessed  Saviour's  two  clear 

commands  neglected  !    And just  killing  himself  to  introduce  such 

a  mere — one  almost  fears — shadow  of  religion  !  It  is  just  grievous  ! 
How  inconceivably  artful  the  Enemy  is  ! ' 

''Dec.  21. — I  paid  a  visit  to  a  village  to-day.  I  first  went  to  the 
school,  then  paid  my  respects  to  the  lady  of  the  place.  .  .  .  She 
showed  me  into  a  pretty  bare  room, — a  chair  was  brought  for  me 
afterwards.  But  I  thought  little  about  the  room  ;  its  strange 
occupants  attracted  my  attention.  I  seemed  transported  into  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  found  myself  amongst  the  retainers  of  some  bold 
baron, — men  who  looked  like  the  stuff  out  of  which  freebooters  are, 
or  were,  made.  There  were  four  powerful  men,  with  four  falcons  ; 
and  the  hoods  of  the  falcons  were  grand.  I  suspect  that  they  were 
valuable  birds,  used  for  hunting. 

'  I  had  an  animated  conversation  with  these  burly  fellows— not  the 
birds,  but  the  men — if  that  could  be  called  a  conversation,  where  the 
talking  was  almost  entirely  on  one  side.  I  had  my  Parable  of  the 
Two  Paths  with  me,  and  spoke  very  plainly  about  Paradise  and  Hell ; 
— and  they  listened  to  the  old  lady  with  perfect  good-humour.  I 
dare  say  that  the  bold  falconers  were  rather  surprised  to  find  such 
an  apparition  in  the  village  ;  for  they  seemed  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  Batala,  where  of  course  my  face  is  very  familiar. 

'As  I  was  returning  in  my  little  duli,  I  saw  a  bullock-cart  in  front, 
with  a  kind  of  red,  dome-shaped  vehicle  on  it,  which  of  course  con- 
tained some  pardah-lady,  perhaps  a  bride.  I  noticed  that  the 
curtain  was  drawn  back.  Probably  the  prisoned  inmate  of  the  red 
cage  had  caught  sight  of  the  duli,  and  was  curious  to  see  its 
occupant.  As  my  kahars  went  faster  than  the  bullocks,  I  passed  the 
red  cage,  and  a  bright  jewel-bedizened  lady— smiling,  as  if  amused  at 
seeing  a  white  woman — exchanged  brief  glances  with  me.  I  thought 
her  a  pretty  creature.  I  wonder  what  she  thought  of  the  old  lady 
who  smiled  at  her.' 

1  A  leading  Salvationist. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  365 

The  New  Year  begins  with  a  line  from  Mrs.  Wade  to 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  in  reference  to  the  recent  Conference : — 

'  Amritsar,  New  Yearns  Day,  1883. 
'  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  dear  Miss  Tucker  as  President  of  our 
Lahore  Ladies'  Conference.  She  did  all  so  perfectly ;  one  only 
feared  her  being  over  tired,  but  I  think  she  is  stronger  than  she  was 
some  months  ago.  We  had  the  pleasure  of  her  staying  a  night  with 
us  on  her  way ;  and  her  walking  powers  are  wonderful  !  You  will 
no  doubt  have  a  report  of  the  Conference,  and  of  her  solemn  and 
helpful  words  on  John  xiii.,  as  it  is  to  be  printed  in  England.' 

Although  Mrs.  Wade  could  speak  of  her  'walking 
powers'  as  'wonderful,'  Miss  Tucker  had  at  this  period 
hardly  the  same  unvarying  good  health  as  in  earlier  years. 
A  few  days  later  she  was  laid  by  with  an  attack  of 
'shingles,'  with  pain  in  the  side.  The  Native  doctor, 
called  in,  informed  her  that  nothing  was  wrong  with 
either  lungs  or  heart, — the  pain  which  troubled  her  being 
'simply  from  the  nerves,'  which  were  'affected  by  the 
eruption.'  Miss  Tucker  assured  him  that  she  was  not 
nervous.  Upon  which,  as  she  relates,  '  the  Hindu  doctor 
smiled  quietly,  and  gave  me  to  understand  that  nerves  are 
real  things.  He  had  not  meant  that  I  was  fanciful.  So 
the  whole  thing  was  simple  enough,'  she  philosophically 
adds.  'To  make  a  bull,  I  had  a  little  toothache  in  my 
side.'     The  attack  gave  way  readily. 

^Jan.  25,  1883. — One  is  so  apt  to  feel  for  the  poor,  down-trodden 
Muhammadan  women,  that,  until  I  began  to  read  a  novelette 
written  by  a  Native,  I  had  no  idea  how  they  sometimes  turn  the 
tables  on  their  husbands.  I  am  reading  the  book  with  N.  N.,  who 
quite  confirms  the  truthfulness  of  the  picture.  It  appears  that  a 
woman  will  sometimes  be  asked  a  question  ten  times  by  her  husband, 
before  she  vouchsafes  an  answer.  Some  women  burn  the  soles  of 
their  shoes,  and  make  a  preparation  of  them  to  put  on  the  eyes, 
believing  that  by  this  strange  superstitious  means  they  will  always 
keep  their  husbands  under  their  feet !  With  all  the  talk  about 
Woman's  Rights,  we  have  hardly  got  so  far  as  this  ! ' 

'  Feb.  20. — Mera  Bhatija  and  I  took  rather  a  long  walk  this  after- 


366  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

noon,  to  look  at  a  lovely  little  mosque.  I  had  said  before  to  Francis, 
"How  is  it  that  the  mosques  are  so  beautiful,  and  our  churches 
here — unless  expensively  built — so  ugly?"  Francis  gave  me  a 
simple  but  good  reason  :  "  We  want  people  to  go  into  our  churches  ; 
the  Muhammadans  worship  outside  theirs."  You  see,  love,  we  have 
first  to  think  of  room  and  comfort ;  so  beauty  gets  shoved  into  a 
corner. 

'  We  went  to  look  more  closely  at  the  graceful  mosque,  to  see  if  we 
could  gain  hints.  I  made  a  rough  sketch  of  the  front.  Francis  says 
that  it  would  be  much  too  expensive  for  us  to  have  anything  so 
ornamental.  We  want  room  for  one  hundred  people  at  least ;  and 
that  dot  of  a  mosque  would  hold  comparatively  very  few.  Mera 
Bhatija  thinks  that  we  might  indulge  in  two  minarets,  and  ornament 
our  church  with  clay  vessels  turned  upside  down,  and  painted  white, 
with  a  little  Cross  on  the  top  of  each.  We  must  have  a  good-sized 
Cross,  gilt,  to  glitter  in  the  sun,  on  the  top  of  all.  .  .  .  The  Cross  is 
our  Banner,  the  Sign  of  Faith  in  the  Son  of  God,  rejected  by 
Muhammadan  and  Hindu  !  It  should  crown — and  sparkle  on,  too — 
every  religious  edifice  in  this  land.' 

''March  8,  1883. — I  had  an  extraordinary  conversation  with  a 
Muhammadan  boy  to-day.  His  name  is  Y.  He  lives  in  what  I 
consider  a  nest  of  bigotry.  I  am  more  likely  to  have  to  dispute  there 
than  in  any  other  place  in  Batala.  I  had  with  me,  besides  my  Bible, 
the  "Mirror  of  the  Heart,"  which  contains  beautifully  coloured 
pictures  of  the  human  heart,  with  allegorical  vices  represented  by 
various  animals,  the  serpent,  rat,  etc.  It  is  a  valuable  help  to  a 
Missionary.  The  first  heart  is  that  of  the  natural  man,  before 
repentance  ;  the  second,  that  of  a  man  repenting.  The  fourth  is  a 
horrid  heart,  of  a  dingy  colour,  with  a  black  cross  in  it,  and  seven 
devils,  mounted  on  the  bad  emblems,  wanting  to  get  in.  It  is  the 
heart  of  a  hypocrite.  Well,  dear  one,  I  was  showing  this  picture  in  a 
Zenana,  and  a  grave-looking  boy,  to  whom  before  I  had  given  a 
portion  of  Scripture,  and  who  I  think  once  studied  in  our  Mission- 
School,  Y.,  was  close  beside  me.  When  I  had  gone  over  the 
various  pictures,  I  said  to  Y.,  "  Which  of  these  hearts," — showing 
the  first  and  second, — "is  like  yours  ?"  I  meant,  "Are  you  repenting 
or  unrepenting?"  The  boy,  perhaps  fourteen  years  of  age,  would 
not  agree  that  either  was  like  his.  To  my  surprise  he  made  me  turn 
over  to  the  fourth  heart,  and  told  me  that  was  like  his. 

'"But  it  is  not  a  Muhammadan's  heart,"  said  I.  "You  see  the 
Cross  is  in  it, — but  it  is  black." 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  367 

' "  And  how  do  you  know,"  said  the  boy  gravely,  "  that  the  Cross 
is  not  in  my  heart?"  I  think  that  he  repeated  this  touching  question 
afterwards.  In  short,  he  kept  firmly  to  his  declaration  that  that 
heart  was  the  one  like  his.  What  is  passing  in  that  lad's  soul  ?  Does 
he  consider  himself  a  hypocrite,  with  seven  devils  surrounding  him  ? 
If  so,  he  must  be  a  hypocrite  as  regards  Muhammadanism  ? — for  he 
does  not  pretend  to  be  a  Christian.  I  suspect  that  this  may  be  the 
case.  He  has  a  cross,  but  it  is  a  black  one,  because  he  does  not 
confess  the  Saviour. 

'  There  is  a  great  change  in  dear 's  mother.     (You  remember 

perhaps  the  dear  lad  in  a  bigoted  home,  who  so  loved  the  Lord 
Jesus,  bore  persecution  for  Him,  and  died  in  peace.)  My  last  visit  to 
that  house  was  so  different  to  the  first !  On  the  first  occasion  I  left 
the  place  so  shocked,  that  I  uttered  the  exclamation  as  I  went, 
"  God  have  mercy  on  you  ! "  I  do  not  think  that  I  ever  left  any  other 
house  with  such  an  exclamation  on  my  lips.  The  last  time  I  left  the 
house  with  the  exclamation,  "  God  grant ! "  The  mother  had  told 
me  the  story  of  her  eldest  brother,  a  policeman,  who,  like  her  son, 
had  become  Christian  in  heart,  and  incurred  the  fierce  anger  of 
his  father  by  speaking  against  Muhammad.  A  Suni^had  stabbed 
the  policeman  in  the  side  with  a  knife  ;  but  the  Christian  refused  to 
prosecute.  He  was  very  gentle,  just  like  the  nephew  who  followed 
in  his  steps.  The  policeman  left  Lahore, — this  was  more  than 
twenty  years  ago, — and  has  never  been  heard  of  since.  Probably  he 
is  numbered  in  the  noble  army  of  martyrs. 

'  I  said,  "  I  think  that  both  your  brother  and  son  are  with  the  Lord 
Jesus."  ^''Without  doubt!  "  cried  this  once  bigoted  woman.  I  urged 
her  to  follow  them,  and  asked  her  if  she  had  no  love  for  the  Lord  in 
her  heart.  "  He  is  the  Apple  of  my  eye,"  she  replied.  You  must  not 
suppose,  love,  that  there  is  any  immediate  prospect  of  Baptism  ;  but 
I  talked  to  her  about  it ;  and,  as  I  have  mentioned,  left  the  house 
with  a  "  God  grant ! " ' 

'•March  24,  1883. — We  cannot  see  one  step  before  us  !  I  was 
thinking  to-day,  as  I  was  going  to  the  City,  where  my  work  seems  of  so 
little  use,  "  Abraham  had  to  wait  for  twenty  years  before  God  kept 
His  promise  to  him."  Perhaps  it  may  be  twenty  years  before  the 
promise  is  fulfilled— fully— to  me,  "Your  labour  is  not  vain  in  the  Lord." 

'O  the  utter  carelessness  of  some  of  the  women,  who  will 
interrupt   the  most    solemn,  heart-searching  conversation  with    a 

1  Sect  of  Muhararaadans. 


368  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

question  about  my  dress,  or  a  request  for  a  pin.  They  seem  so 
utterly  frivolous  !  Then  those  who  do  think,  and  have  some  concern 
for  religion,  are  such  earnest  Muhammadans ;  it  is  with  them  a 
matter  of  heart-love !  It  is  a  mystery  how  it  should  be  so,  when 
Muhammad  was  not  only  a  murderer  and  profligate,  but  has  lowered 
woman  altogether  ;  but  it  seems  especially  the  women  who  delight 
in  his  false  religion.  They  do  not  care  for  its  having  no  proofs  ; 
they  love  it.' 

'  March  28. — I  had  rather  an  interesting  visit  to-day,  which  you 
may  like  to  hear  about. 

'  I  went  to  the  house  of  a  Maulvi ...  I  had  books  ta  take  to  his 
sweet  young  daughter  ;  and  soon  I  found  that  the  ladies  had  gone  to 
a  wedding  ;  but  as  two  servants  were  in  the  house,  I  thought  it  better 
to  stop  and  give  the  "  good  news "  to  them.  Whether  they  cared 
about  it  or  not,  I  know  not.  After  my  interview  with  them,  I  was 
about  to  leave,  when  who  should  come  in  but  the  master  of  the 
house,  the  Maulvi  himself.  (He  is  not  the  same  one  who  was  so  proud, 
that  I  could  not  help  an  unpremeditated  rebuke  escaping  from  my 
lips.)  This  Maulvi  was  fresh  from  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca  ;  but  the 
merit  ascribed  to  a  Haji  did  not  seem  to  make  him  proud  at  all. 

'He  courteously  addressed  me,  sat  down,  and  prepared  for  a 
tite-d-tefe  with  the  Englishwoman.  He  told  me  that  he  had  none 
of  our  books  ;  that  he  wanted  a  controversial  one,  that  he  might 
compare  the  two  religions.  There  was  no  appearance  of  bigotry  at 
all.  He  asked  me  whether  we  read  prayers.  I  told  him  that  we  not 
only  had  regular  prayer,  but  that  we  sang  God's  praises, — which  the 
Muhammadans  never  do, — and  opening  my  Bible,  I  read  aloud 
several  passages  in  which  Hasrat  David  (Saint  David)  commands  us 
to  do  so.  My  gentle  Maulvi  made  no  observation  on  this  proof  that 
Christians  pay  more  obedience  than  Muhammadans  do  to  the  com- 
mands of  one  whom  both  acknowledge  as  a  Prophet.  .  .  . 

'  Accompany  me  now  to  another  Zenana.  A  young  man  showed 
himself  again  and  again,  as  if  he  wanted  to  take  a  share  in  con- 
versation, but  did  not  at  first  see  his  way  to  doing  so.  At  last  he 
told  me  that  there  was  great  excitement.  I  could  not  for  some  time 
make  out  what  it  was  about ;  it  seemed  to  be  about  some  birth  ;  but 
then  it  appeared  to  be  about  something  else.  At  last  the  difficulty 
cleared  up.  The  young  Muhammadan  made  me  understand  that  it 
was  said  that  the  Imam  Mahdi  had  been  born ;  and  on  account  of 
this  there  was  great  excitement  in  H and  over  the  country. 

'  I  said  that  I  had  heard  that  a  man,  calling  himself  the  Mahdi, 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  369 

near  Egypt.  The  young  man  did  not  seem  to  have  an  idea  where 
the  long-expected  Imam  is,  but  he  said  that  when  the  place  should 
be  known  all  would  go  to  see  him.  My  curiosity  was  a  little  aroused. 
I  asked  what  the  Mahdi  was  to  do.  "  To  reign  over  all  kingdoms,  and 
make  every  one  Muhammadan."  "  But  if  they  should  not  choose  to 
be  Muhammadans?"  "Oh,  all  will  be  Muhammadans."  "But  if  I 
did  not  choose  to  be  a  Muhammadan,  would  he  kill  me  ? "  "  No,  his 
rule  will  be  like  that  of  the  English." 

'  I  would  not  trust  the  Mahdi,  however,  nor  that  animated  young 
man  !  This  was  the  only  Zenana  in  which  I  have  heard  of  the 
Mahdi ;  and  I  have  visited  plenty.  I  had  more  talk  with  the 
Muhammadan.  I  said  that  I  thought  that  the  Dajal  was  expected 
to  come  before  the  Mahdi.  No, — the  Mahdi  is  to  come  first ;  then 
the  Dajal ;  and  then  Jesus  Christ !    It  is  curious  to  hear  these  ideas  ! ' 

^  March  28. — I  almost  think  that  the  Muhammadans  are  stronger 
in  their  bigotry,  from  an  expectation  of  some  coming  event  at  the 
coming  Ramazan  (great  fast)  in  July.  Perhaps,  some  of  them  think, 
there  will  be  great  pestilence ;  perhaps  Christ  and  the  Mahdi  will 
come ; — and  the  sun  rise  in  the  west  instead  of  in  the  east.  The 
more  intelligent  do  not  seem  to  expect  the  last  wonder.' 

''April  27. — The  beautiful  monument  which  Francis  is  going  to 
place  over  the  grave  of  sweet  Margaret  was  sent  here  from  Delhi.  I 
have  sent  a  sketch  of  it  to  her  sisters,  and  another  to  Mrs.  Baring. 
I  did  not  find  it  so  easy  to  draw  as  I  expected,  on  account  of  the 
perspective  of  the  three  white  marble  steps,  which  support  the  pure 
white  Cross.  .  .  .  How  little  we  know  who  will  be  called  !  I 
remember  my  pleading  with  her  not  to  delay  coming  out,  or  she 
might  find  a  Cross  instead  of  her  friend.  The  white  Cross  has  been 
for  her,  not  for  me ;  and  I  see  no  likeHhood  at  present  of  my  soon 
being  called,  though  of  course  one  never  knows.  I  have  seen  so 
many  young  pass  away  since  I  came  to  India.' 

In  the  same  letter  she  says  with  respect  to  the  Baring 
High  School :  '  I  hope  and  expect  that  our  School  has 
reached  its  lowest  ebb, — twenty-three  boys,  mostly  little 
ones.     There  is  some  likelihood  of  six  more  coming.' 

Mrs.  Hamilton  had  begun  to  ask  occasionally  to  her 
house  in  London  young  Indians  who  had  come  to 
England  for  a  Western  education.  Some  of  them  she  saw 
repeatedly,  and  reference  is  often  made  to  them  in  letters. 

2A 


370  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

C.    M.    T.   TO  THE  REV.    W.    F.   T.    HAMILTON. 

^June  19,  1883. 
'  Shortly  after  writing  to  your  dear  Mother,  I  had  myself  a  visit 
from  a  Muhammadan.  I  remembered  what  I  had  just  been  writing/ 
so  soon  plunged  straight  into  the  subject  of  religion.  I  had  seen 
Sheik  A.  twice  before ;  and  the  first  time  had  had  a  good  talk. 
Yesterday  he  listened  very  well,  though  I  ventured  to  contrast 
Muhammad  a  little  with  the  Blessed  One.  Sheik  A.  agreed  to  his 
wife  visiting  me  here  this  evening, — I  sending  a  duH  for  her,  as  she 

is  "  pardah-nishin  "  ;  and  as  he  is  going  to  L ,  he  asked  me  for  a 

letter  of  introduction  to  some  lady  there,  that  she  might  visit  his 
wife.  This  was  encouraging.  Sheik  A.  took  a  cup  of  tea  with  me, 
and  we  parted  excellent  friends.  Perhaps  a  couple  of  hours  after- 
wards my  dear  Faqir,  M.,  came  to  see  me.  He  too  had  been 
having  an  interview  with  Sheik  A.  "  Much  excitement,"  said  the 
Faqir.  I  think  that  the  Muhammadan  had  probably  not  been  as 
much  on  his  good  behaviour  with  the  dark  Madrassee  as  with  the 
white  Englishwoman.  There  seemed  to  have  been  a  hot  discussion 
below.  Dear  M.  was  inclined  to  reproach  himself.  "Harsh! — 
my  loud  voice  ! "  said  he.  Depend  upon  it,  he  went  at  his  work  like 
a  cannon.  But  all  seemed  to  end  well.  I  think  he  told  me  that 
Sheik  A.  and  he  shook  hands  as  they  parted.' 

TO   MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'/2//K2I,  1883. 

'  How  different  it  is  writing  a  free  and  easy  letter  to  you,  from  a 

studied  one  like  that  to !     I  hope  that  my  Laura  will  not  consider 

Char  a  conceited  old  woman,  who  likes  no  one  to  find  fault  with  her 

writings.     But,  you  see,  love,  f  know  nothing  of  Mr.  ■ 's  capacity 

to  act  as  critic.  ...   I  cannot  consent  to  walk  in  chains  because 

Mr. has  a  liberal  hand  and  a  full  purse.     I  am  so  glad  that  I 

refused  pecuniary  recompense.  In  writing  I  must  be  free.  I  hope 
that  I  have  not  made  a  mistake  in  putting  in  as  many  proverbs  as  I 
have  done.  It  was  difficult  to  select.  How  inappropriate — clever 
as  it  is  1 — would  it  have  been  to  put  in  such  as  this,  "  The  sieve  said 
to  the  needle,  You  have  a  hole  in  your  tail "  ! '  .  .  . 

^  Aug.  4. — Yes,  love,  I  dare  say  that  I  was  mistaken  about  your 
entering  on  religious  subjects  soon  with  the  young  Indians.     I  often 

1  Advice  to  her  sister  to  enter  liabitually^  without  delay,  upon  the  subject  of 
religion  with  Indians. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  371 

doubt  my  own  judgment.  You  see,  it  is  a  disadvantage  to  me 
to  have  no  one  to  correct  me.  This  has  been,  I  think,  my  most 
lonely  hot  weather. 

'  I  am  thankful  that  I  do  not  hold  the  doctrine  of  Perfectionism. 
I  should  be  very  miserable  if  I  did ;  for  sometimes  it  seems  to 
me  as  if  I  went  backwards  instead  of  forwards.  If  I  thought  that 
a  real  child  of  God  ought  to  be  perfect,  I  must  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  I  at  least  am  not  a  child  of  God.  But  I  do  not  hold 
this  view,  and  I  see  that  the  holy  Simeon  wrote  clearly  and  distinctly 
against  it.' 

'Alexandra  School,  Amritsar,  Aug.  15,  1883. 

'  Here  I  am  in  this  big  palace,  a  good  deal  bigger  than  my  Batala 
one, — the  guest  of  dear,  loving  Florrie.^  .  .  . 

'  I  have  been  taking  my  morning  walk.  I  saw  the  old  banyan  in 
the  garden  of  what  was  my  first  Indian  home  with  sweet  Margaret. 
The  downward  shoot  which  I  named  "  Batala "  has  now  the  size  of 
the  trunk  of  a  tree.' 

A  visit  of  two  or  three  weeks  to  her  nephew  at  Dunga 
Gully  followed,  where  the  children  were  a  great  enjoyment 
to  her,  letters  home  being  full  of  the  pretty  utterances  of 
little  Tudor  and  Beryl.  On  the  15th  of  September, 
however,  she  once  more  gaily  reported  herself  as  'back 
again  in  dear  old  Batala ! '  and  again  the  steady  round 
of  work  went  on  as  usual. 

'  Sept.  19. — A  lady  who  knows  a  good  deal  about  Muhammadanism, 
and  has  read  from  the  Hadis  (Muhammadan  traditions),  told  me 
something  very  curious  that  she  had  come  upon.  .  .  . 

'  There  is  a  supposed  prophecy  of  Muhammad,  that  in  the  latter 
days  a  marvellous  being,  called  Dajal,  will  appear.  He  will  perform 
marvels,  bring  a  band  of  niusicians,  and  whoever  hears  the  enchanting 
sound  will  follow  him,   leaving  friends,   parents,  etc.  ...  I,  after 

hearing  this,  inquired  about  Dajal  from  .     He,  having  been  a 

learned  Muhammadan,  of  course  knew  all  about  the  prophecy.  .  .  . 
Dajal,  who  will  become  a  king,  is  to  have  but  one  eye,  and  ride  an 
ass  nine  coss  (about  fourteen  miles)  long  !  .  .  .  Dajal  is  supposed  to 
be  an  evil  being,  drawing  downwards  those  whom  he  influences. 
After  him  the  Muhammadans  expect  the  Imam  Mahdi ; — and  then, 
our  Blessed  Lord. 

^  Miss  Swainson. 


372  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

'  What  extraordinary  ideas  these  people  have  of  our  Saviour ! 
They  think  that  He  never  died,  but  was  caught  up  to  Heaven,  and 
some  one  else  crucified  in  His  stead.  This  is  a  true  doctrine  of  the 
devil,  for  of  course  it  strikes  against  all  belief  in  the  Atonement.  It 
would  drive  us  from  the  very  key  and  central  point  of  our  faith. 
Often  have  I  tried  to  show  how  completely  such  a  doctrine  is  against 
prophecy.  Well,  dear,  this  is  not  all.  The  Muhammadans  believe  that 
after  our  Lord  comes  again,  to  convert  the  world  to  ^Muhatmnadanisin^ 
He  will  die  !  I  have  spoken  with  one  who  has  actually  seejt  the  place 
where  His  future  tomb  is  to  be  at  Medina  !  It  is  near  Muhammad's 
grave,  and  is  considered  a  very  holy  place.  There  is  a  handsome  black 
marble  slab,  bordered  with  white,  and  fine  palings  around.' 

TO  MISS  LEILA  HAMILTON. 

'  Sept.  24. 

'  I  have  started  to-day  a  temporary  drawing-class  for  the  five  poor 
little  boys  who  have  to  stay  here  all  during  the  holidays.  They 
are  so  pleased.  *  It  was  a  pleasure  to  me  to  see  them  all  seated,  busy 
with  pencil  and  paper,  instead  of  lounging  about  wearily.  I  did  not 
succeed  in  making  them  do  a  bit  of  carpentering  for  me. 

'The  drawing  lesson  was  a  lesson  to  me,  dear.  After  my  own 
fashion,  it  seemed  to  me  a  type,  and — strange  as  it  may  seem  to  you — 
a  type  bearing  on  the  disputed  subject  of  perfection  in  this  life.  We 
are  all  children, — the  sooner  we  realise  this,  the  better  ! — and  the  Lord 
sets  us  a  copy  ;  not  a  poor  little  one,  such  as  I  placed  before  the  boys, 
but  a  perfect,  exquisite  one.  Now,  I  imagine  three  of  our  boys  draw- 
ing as  nicely  as  they  can,  and  then  coming  to  me  with  their  copies. 

*The  first  is  very  happy  indeed.  "It  is  quite  perfect !'  says  he. 
"  My  dear  child,  you  may  think  so,  but  /  do  not  think  so.  Take  your 
measuring  paper,  and  go  over  your  copy  more  carefully ;  and  you 
will  see  that  not  all  the  lines  are  straight." 

'  The  second  comes  to  me,  crying.  "  I  shall  never  manage  my 
copy,"  sighs  he.  "  It  is  not  a  quarter  as  good  as  the  picture,  and  yet 
I  took  such  pains  ! "  "  Yes,  dear  boy,  I  see  that  you  have  taken 
pains ;  and  that  is  all  that  I  require.  You  will  do  better  in  time. 
But  dry  your  tears.  Did  you  really  think  that  I  should  be  angry 
with  you,  because  your  drawing  is  not  perfect  ?  " 

'  The  third  looks  modestly  into  my  face,  to  see  if  he  has  pleased  me. 
He  knows  that  he  has  tried  to  please  me ;  and  though  he  has  not 
succeeded  in  making  a  perfect  drawing,  he  has  succeeded  in  pleasing. 

'The  third  child  is  the  one  whom  I  should  most  wish  to  resemble. 
He  trusts  me  ! ' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  373 

TO  MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'  Oct.  14,  1883. 

*  Do  you  ever  note  what  is  the  first  waking  thought  when  conscious- 
ness returns  in  the  morning?  .  .  .  The  other  day  my  thought  on 
awakening  was  so  very  odd,  that  it  made  an  impression  by  its  very 
strangeness.  I  could  not  imagine  what  could  have  put  it  into  my 
head,  and  you  will  smile  when  you  read  it.  "  The  snuffers  were  of 
gold/"  I  have  not  so  much  as  seen  snuffers  since  I  came  to  India.  .  .  . 
Why  on  earth  should  my  waking  thought  be  of  them  ?  "  Well,"  con- 
sidered I,  "  snuffers  are  worthy  of  mention  in  the  Bible  ;  and  those  in 
the  Temple  were  of  gold.     What  can  I  make  out  of  this  thought?" 

'  Then  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  office  of  snuffers,  humble  enough, 
being  to  make  candles  brighter,  the  office  was  emblematical  perhaps 
of  that  which  St.  Paul  adjudged  to  the  aged  women.  They  were  to 
teach  the  young  women  to  love  their  husbands,  etc.  At  last  I  began 
to  think,  darling,  that  perhaps  my  place  in  the  Church  here  is  a  little 
like  that  of  a  pair  of  snuffers ;  and  now,  when  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  give 
a  little  word  in  season  to  Native  Christians,  I  fancy  that  I  have  to  snuff 
them — not  out ! — O  no ! — only  to  remove  some  little  superfluity.  .  .  . 

*  I  think  I  must  have  amused  my  Laura  with  my  idea  of  the 
snuffers  ;  but  it  may  be  a  useful  thought  to  those  who  are  no  longer 
young.  A  little  gentle  snuffing  may  be  the  work — unostentatious 
work — given  to  us.  .  .  .  What  a  snip  dear  H.  gave  to  W.  long,  long 
ago,  and  how  the  fine  boy  admired  her  for  it !  .  .  .  But  then  the 
snuffers  were  of  gold.    No  one  likes  to  be  snuffed  by  coarse  iron  ones. 

'  What  a  pity  that  I  have  no  one  to  snuff  me  here  !  Were  we 
together,  it  would  be  your  office,  love.  I  have  to  act  as  my  own 
snuffers,  and  take  hints  never  intended  to  be  hints,  like  noble  Tudor's 
— "  I  must  do  my  duty."  He  had  no  idea  that  he  was  acting  the  part 
of  a  tiny  pair  of  gold  snuffers.  I  may  almost  say  that  I  have  taken 
these  snuffers  up,  and  have  been  snipping  away  with  them  at  our 
young  Natives  ever  since.  No  mortal  could  object  to  such  a  minia- 
ture pair. 

*  Oct.  16. — Do  not  think,  from  what  is  written  above,  that,  as  I 
grow  older,  I  think  it  well  to  grow  more  censorious.  If  I  have  grown 
in  anything  this  year,  I  think  that  it  is  in  knowledge  of  my  own 
errors  and  mistakes.  I  sometimes  feel  quite  disheartened.  I  do  not 
think  that  I  ever  more  mistrusted  my  own  judgment  than  I  do  now, 
after  my  various  blunders.  But  we  know  that,  though  snuffers  are 
less  straight,  comely,  and  upright,  perhaps,  than  the  candlestick,  they 
may  be  useful  in  brightening  the  light  which  it  carries.' 


CHAPTER   XIII 

A.D.    1884-1885 
SOME  OF  A.  L.  O.  E.'S   POSSESSIONS 

Some  little  time  before  this  Mr.  Baring  had,  for  various 
reasons,  decided  to  leave  Batala,  though  not,  it  seems,  to 
give  up  his  interest  in  the  High  School.  His  departure 
was  fixed  for  the  last  day  of  the  year  1883  ;  and  Miss 
Tucker,  after  her  usual  cheerful  fashion,  congratulated 
herself  upon  the  fact  that,  at  least,  the  New  Year  would 
not  begin  with  a  parting. 

Much  uncertainty  had  prevailed  as  to  who  should  be 
chosen  to  carry  on  Mr.  Baring's  most  important  work 
among  the  boys ;  but  before  the  end  of  December  sus- 
pense was  ended.  Another  of  Miss  Tucker's  dharm- 
nephews,  the  Rev.  Herbert  U.  Weitbrecht,  with  his  wife 
and  children,  would  come  to  live  in  Anarkalli,  and  Mr. 
Weitbrecht  would  be  the  Principal.  By  this  time  a 
Mission  Bungalow  in  Batala  was  finished,  and  two  German 
ladies.  Miss  Hoernle  and  Miss  Krapf,  came  in  the  course 
of  December  to  reside  in  it.  Miss  Tucker,  however,  does 
not  yet  appear  to  have  thought  of  changing  her  quarters. 
Indeed,  the  little  bungalow  was  built  to  contain  only  two 
ladies. 

On  December  27th  she  wrote  home  as  to  arrange- 
ments : — 

'  The  Weitbrechts  are  to  come  here  on  Jan.  1 5  for  about  a  fort- 
night.    I  am  to  keep  house  until  they  come  for  good  about  the 

374 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  375 

middle  of  March  ;  and  then  my  fair  niece,  Ellie,  is  to  take  the  reins. 
She  and  her  two  children  must  go  to  the  Hills  in  May.  411  purpose 
going  to  England  in  the  following  March.  As  Herbert  did  not  wish 
to  be  buying  much  furniture,  when  so  soon  to  be  on  the  wing,  I  felt 
it  the  best  plan  to  take  some  off  dear  Francis'  hands,  and  let  the 
Weitbrechts  have  the  use  of  them.  Thus,  I  find  myself  the  possessor 
of  a  very  large  bed,  immensely  long  table,  and  a  variety  of  other  things 
too  numerous  to  recount. 

'  There  is  no  use  in  my  not  wanting  possessions, — they  will  come  ! 
I  have  even  a  large  coffin,  which  is  not  the  slightest  use  to  me  !  I 
did  not  buy  that  from  Francis  !  .  .  .' 

The  fact  of  Miss  Tucker  including  a  coffin  amongst  her 
possessions  requires  a  word  of  explanation.  About  this 
time  the  Rev.  Robert  Clark  went  to  pay  a  little  visit  to 
Batala ;  and  on  his  first  arrival  he  was  shown  straight  to 
the  room  which  he  would  occupy  while  there.  Miss 
Tucker  came  running  in,  and  exclaimed — 

'  I  hope  you  have  not  seen  it, — have  you  ? ' 

Mr.  Clark  naturally  inquired  what  was  the  thing  in 
question  which  she  wished  him  not  to  have  seen. 

'  I  had  better  tell  you  all  about  it,'  she  said.  '  A  poor 
woman  was  dying,  and  we  thought  they  would  take  her 
away  and  burn  her ;  and  we  wished  to  give  her  Christian 
burial.  So  I  ordered  a  coffin  to  be  made.  But  they  were 
late  in  making  it,  and  she  died  before  it  was  ready ;  and 
they  took  her  away  and  burnt  her.  And  then  they  brought 
the  coffin.  It  was  a  very  good  coffin,  and  I  thought  it 
would  be  useful ;  so  I  told  them  to  put  it  under  the  bed  in 
the  guest-room  !  You  did  not  see  it,  did  you  ? '  Mr.  Clark 
no  doubt  assured  her  that  he  had  not  yet  made  the  dis- 
covery ;  and  she  went  on  eagerly  :  '  You  must  not  think  I 
kept  it  for  myself ;  for  I  have  directed  in  my  will  that  I 
should  be  buried  without  a  coffin,  and  that  my  funeral 
expenses  must  not  exceed  five  rupees.' 

The  latter  injunction  was  with  a  view  to  lessening 
funeral    expenses    among    Indian    Christians    generally, 


yj(i  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

many  of  them  being  apt  to  spend  heavily  at  such  times. 
But  the  whole  story  is  eminently  characteristic.  Many 
people  shrink  from  the  very  mention  of  a  coffin,  because  of 
its  associations.  Not  so  Charlotte  Tucker  !  There  was  to 
her  absolutely  no  sadness  whatever  in  the  thought  of  death. 
She  looked  forward  to  the  day  of  her  departure  from 
earth  as  to  a  day  of  release  from  bondage,  of  an  upward 
spring  into  a  new  and  radiant  life.  It  was  a  subject  to  be 
spoken  of  cheerily,  and  with  a  smile. 

What  became  of  the  coffin  in  the  end  Mr.  Clark  does 
not  say ;  but  he  too  speaks,  as  do  others,  of  her  entire 
fearlessness  with  regard  to  death.  Once,  when  talking 
of  it  to  him,  she  quoted  impressively  the  words,  used 
long  before  by  her  gentle  sister,  Fanny :  '  Whenever, 
wherever,  however.  He  will ! ' 

One  time,  when  Mr.  Clark  was  spending  a  Sunday  at 
Batala  with  Miss  Tucker,  she  read  aloud  to  him  the  31st 
verse  of  the  40th  chapter  of  Isaiah,  and  drew  attention  to 
the  fact  that  the  verse  had  in  it  instruction  and  comfort  for 
persons  of  all  ages. 

'■ "  They  shall  mount  up  with  wings  as  eagles," — that  is 
something  for  our  young  people ;  they  are  always  soaring 
and  flying.  "  They  shall  run,  and  not  be  weary," — that  is 
for  our  middle-aged  people ;  they  run  and  work  on,  and 
never  seem  to  tire.  And  there  is  something  for  us  old 
people  too, — "They  shall  walk  and  not  faint."  We  old 
people  cannot  fly ;  we  cannot  run ;  but  we  can  walk,  and 
do  not  faint.  And  so  we  all  of  us  renew  our  strength  by 
waiting  on  the  Lord.' 

Mr.  Clark,  from  whom  these  details  have  come  direct, 
writes  also : — 

'On  another  occasion,  she  came  walking  up  to  me  in  her  genial,  brisk 
manner,  with  a  book  in  her  hands,  as  I  entered  the  room,  and  said, 
"  You  will  be  surprised  when  I  tell  you  what  book  1  am  reading ! 
You  know  I  am  a  good  Churchwoman ;  and  yet  I  often  like  to  read 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  377 

Spurgeon's  sermons.  They  are  full  of  apt  illustrations,  and  he  never 
repeats  himself.  I  find  them  so  useful  in  my  writings  ;  and  I  know 
hardly  any  other  work  which  so  much  helps  me."  In  her  latter  years 
she  often  read  Shakespeare,  and  recommended  it  to  educated  Natives, 
who  were  averse  to  the  study  of  the  Bible.  The  recitations  from 
Shakespeare,  at  the  Prize-giving  in  the  Baring  High  School  in  Batala, 
originated  with  her;  and  she  thought  them  very  valuable  in  the 
formation  of  character.  The  Prologues  in  these  Prize-givings  were, 
I  think,  till  last  year  all  written  by  her.' 

Not  only  in  later  days,  but  all  through  her  life  from 
very  childhood,  she  had  delighted  in  Shakespeare,  as  we 
have  already  seen  ;  and  she  had  a  very  high  opinion  of 
the  value  of  Shakespeare  in  the  general  education  of  the 
Indian  mind. 

In  confirmation  of  certain  words  above,  spoken  by  her- 
self, Mr.  Clark  observes :  '  As  regards  her  religious  views, 
she  was  sincerely  attached  to  the  Church  of  England, 
firmly  believing  that  the  teaching  of  the  Church  of 
England,  as  set  forth  in  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  and 
in  the  Thirty-nine  Articles,  is  in  accordance  with  the  Word 
of  God.'  Another  also,  who  knew  her  well,  has  said  : 
'  A  warm  Churchwoman,  she  would  always  be  ready  to  see 
the  best  of  those  with  whom  she  could  not  agree  on  many 
points.'  This  undoubtedly  was  the  case, — in  practice, 
if  not  always  in  theory.  She  was,  however,  greatly 
opposed  to  Ritualism,  and  would  be  much  distressed  when 
she  came  across  aught  of  the  kind  in  her  various  visits 
to  different  places. 

The  subject  recalls  involuntarily  certain  words  uttered 
by  Bishop  French  of  Lahore, — 'our  saintly  Bishop,'  as 
Miss  Tucker  called  him.  When  he  was  at  home  some 
years  ago,  and  staying  at  Eastbourne,  I  happened  to 
put  to  him  a  question  bearing  on  this  matter ;  and  his 
reply  was  one  not  soon  to  be  forgotten.  He  said : 
*IT    IS    NO    QUESTION    OUT    THERE    OF    HiGH    CHURCH 

AND  Low  Church!     It  is  a  question  simply  of 


378  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Christianity  and  Heathenism  ! '  To  this  wide  and 
comprehensive  view  Charlotte  Tucker  could  not  have 
fully  subscribed.  In  her  letters,  from  .time  to  time,  though 
not  often,  the  subject  crops  up,  and  she  expresses  her  fears 
strongly  as  to  one  individual  or  another.  But  it  is  note- 
worthy that  when,  soon  after,  she  meets  with  the  indi- 
vidual himself,  her  fears  are  usually  quieted ;  and  while 
conscious  of  differences  on  certain  points,  she  is  yet  able 
fully  to  recognise — and  to  recognise  with  delight — real 
devotion  of  heart  and  life  to  the  Service  of  the  Master 
Whom  she  loved.  No  more  unmistakable  token  can 
well  exist  of  true  large-heartedness.  There  was  in  her  no 
innate  love  of  controversy  for  its  own  sake ;  and  though, 
as  might  be  expected  with  one  of  her  impulsive  tempera- 
ment, she  sometimes  expressed  her  views  with  energy,  she 
did  not  love  fighting,  nor  was  she  a  violent  partisan.  As 
a  general  rule,  her  aim  was  rather  to  build  up  than  to 
pull  down. 

The  years  1884  and  1885  passed  in  the  main  quietly, 
marked  by  no  especial  events.  Work  went  steadily  on  as 
usual ;  holidays  were  short  as  usual ;  failure  and  success 
fluctuated  as  usual.  Miss  Tucker's  loneliest  time  in  Batala 
was  over.  Now  she  not  only  lived  with  the  family  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Weitbrecht,  but  two  other  lady  Missionaries 
were  settled  in  Batala,  helping  to  carry  on  the  work.  Not 
that  Charlotte  Tucker's  toil  was  lessened  thereby.  She 
had  a  less  heavy  weight  of  responsibility ;  but  so  far  as 
actual  work  was  concerned  it  could  never  be  overtaken, — 
and  it  could  not  have  been  overtaken  by  twice  or  thrice 
the  number  of  workers.  Fresh  openings  were  continually 
appearing,  continually  calling  for  attention. 

In  the  hot  weather,  indeed,  she  had  a  taste  of  her  old 
manner  of  life.  Then,  when  other  Europeans  were  com- 
pelled one  after  another  to  flee  to  the  Hills,  Miss  Tucker 
could  safely  remain  on  many  weeks  longer  ;  up  to  a  certain 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  379 

point  even  enjoying  the  heat.  On  the  whole,  however, 
things  were  altered.  Not  only  were  other  Europeans  in 
Batala  most  of  the  year,  but  a  railway  had  now  been  com- 
pleted between  Amritsar  and  Batala,  bringing  all  the 
Amritsar  friends  within  a  very  easy  distance.  It  became 
possible  to  run  over  to  Batala  for  a  day's  visit ;  and  Miss 
Tucker  grew  jealously  anxious,  lest  such  visitors  should  in 
any  wise  hinder  her  work.  '  I  have  let  it  be  known,'  she 
wrote,  *  that  I  do  not  consider  myself  off  duty  till  2  P.M., 
so  that  if  friends  come  in  the  morning  they  visit  the  house 
and  not  me.  I  must  try  to  be  firm  in  this,  and  make  no 
exceptions.' 

A  certain  little  incident  of  this  period  may  be  men- 
tioned. With  a  new  Principal,  naturally  new  plans  were 
adopted  in  the  training  of  the  boys  ;  and  Miss  Tucker 
did  not  always  at  first  take  kindly  to  fresh  ideas.  She 
was  now  of  an  age  to  prefer  the  old  to  the  new,  simply 
because  it  was  the  old.     Dr.  Weitbrecht  writes  : — 

'In  1885,  by  way  of  encouraging  muscular  exercise  in  the  hot 
weather,  I  tried  the  experiment  of  having  the  boys  taught  wrestling 
by  a  Native  athlete.  The  Auntie  was  at  first  inclined  to  be  a 
little  shocked  at  the  new  development,  and  would  not  grace  the 
wrestling  practice  with  her  presence.  One  day,  as  it  was  going 
on,  Mrs.  Weitbrecht  went  to  a  window  overlooking  the  arena,  and 
there  found  Miss  Tucker,  stretched  on  the  floor,  her  head  out  of 
the  low  window.  In  some  alarm  lest  the  old  lady  should  have 
fainted,  she  offered  to  raise  her,  but  was  only  met  with  the  reply, 
"  Hush !  I  'm  looking  at  the  boys."  The  ladies  soon  saw  they 
were  discovered,  as  a  handsome  young  Pathan  looked  up  with  a 
smiling  "Salaam."' 

Extracts  from  the  letters  of  these  two  years,  1884  and 
1885,  must  unfortunately,  for  lack  of  space,  be  very  limited 
in  number. 

'•New  Year's  Day,  1884.— I  had  a  very  sore  parting  with  Mera 
Bhatija  ;  but  on  that  I  will  not  dwell.  .  .  . 

'The  last  day  of  1883  was  a  very  sad  one  to  me  ;  but  I  had  some 


38o  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

of  the  little  boys  in  the  evening,  and  amusing  them  shook  me  out 
of  my  melancholy.  I  awoke  early — as  usual — on  the  New  Year's 
Day,  and  sang  New  Year's  hymns.  After  that  I  heard  unwonted 
music  below  my  window.  Good  Miss  Krapf  and  three  of  the  Singha 
girls  had  come  to  salute  the  New  Year  with  a  holy  song.  Of  course, 
I  went  to  the  city  after  breakfast.' 

TO  MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

''Jan.  21. 

'  I  am  quite  glad  that  my  furniture  is  so  simple.  Had  I  had 
plenty  of  gimcracks,  I  might  have  been  a  fidgety  old  maid.  As  it 
is,  there  is  no  harm  in  having  a  nursery  instead  of  a  drawing-room. 
But  I  have  a  nice  little  drawing-room  of  my  own  ;  a  screened-ofF 
bit  of  my  fine  large  sleeping-room.  I  used  it  for  my  classes  when 
sweet  Margaret  was  here  ;  for  I  think  that  a  married  couple  should 
not  be  always  having  interruptions.  This  arrangement  does  nicely 
in  the  cool  weather ;  and  in  the  hot  weather  dear  Nellie  and  her 
babes  will  be  in  the  Hills.  It  will  be  the  old  arrangement  of  Auntie 
and  one  choice  nephew, — for  Herbert  is  choice,  and  kind  to  my 
Leila's  attached  godmother.' 

TO   MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'Jan.  28,  1884. 

'  I  feel  as  if  I  must  have  a  talk  with  my  Laura  to-night ;  for  my 
spirit  feels  pensive  and  my  heart  tender.  The  ladies  came  and 
took  tea  with  us  ;  and  Miss  Krapf  brought  her  music.  As  Herbert 
wanted  to  see  a  photo  of  St.  George  and  Francie,  I  took  my  dear 
old  album  into  the  drawing-room,  which  it  very  seldom  enters. 
While  the  sweet,  rich  music  was  going  on,  I  was — yes,  sighing  over 
my  Album.     More  than  twenty  of  the  faces  in  it  no  longer  of  earth  ! 

Sweet  Mother,  Fanny,  Henry,  Letitia,  Aunt  E , — oh,  so  many 

gone  before  !  Then  my  Laura  looked  so  like  what  she  did  in  old 
days.  I  must  not  look  often  over  that  Album  ;  it  is  like  my  youth 
between  two  boards.     What  a  changing  world  ! ' 

'March  26. — I  met  with  a  perfectly  mad  woman  in  a  Hindu 
Zenana.  She  came  and  sat  down  beside  me.  V.  and  others 
made  me  change  my  seat  to  another  bedstead— the  usual  seat.  I 
did  not  at  first  know  why,  but  was  soon  aware  of  the  cause.  The 
poor,  afflicted  woman  put  her  head  right  down  on  my  lap.  She 
did  not  seem  to  be  mischievous.     It  was  insanity,  not  idiotcy.' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  381 

TO   MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

^  April  12,  1884. 

'  Among  the  little  matters  which  vary  our  regular  Hfe  at  Batala, 
I  may  mention  almost  nightly  alarms  about  robbers.  The  servants 
have  got  into  a  nervous  state.  ...  It  is  not  a  comfortable  state  of 
affairs.  .  .  .  The  Weitbrechts  and  I  have  been  putting  our  heads 
together.  I  forget  which  of  us  suggested  the  plan  which  we  hope 
may  succeed.  I  sleep  in  the  front  room,  opposite  to  the  servants' 
house ;  so  a  great  tumult  naturally  awakens  me,  especially  as  my 
windows  are  open  for  air.  The  Weitbrechts  are  more  out  of  the 
way. 

'  Herbert  is  to  lend  me  his  revolver,  loaded,  and  we  are  to  take 
care  that  every  one  knows  that  I  have  the  formidable  weapon  ;  but 
no  one  but  ourselves  is  to  know  that  I  would  on  no  account  hurt 
any  one  with  it.  On  the  next  alarm  of  robbers,  I  am  to  jump  up, 
and — fire — at  the  trees  or  the  stars.  The  report  will  probably  awake 
Herbert,  who  has  a  rifle.  Now  you  see  the  double  use  of  this 
arrangement.  My  Ayah  may  possibly  even  sleep  out-of-doors,  if 
she  knows  that  a  yell  from  her  may  bring  a  pistol-shot  from  her 
vigilant  Miss  Sahiba ;  and  robbers,  if  such  there  be,  will  doubtless 
dread  my  prowess,  not  knowing  how  peculiarly  peaceable  I  am, 
and  that  I  would  prefer  being  shot  myself  to  shooting  another  ! 
I  am  to  have  a  very  determined  look ;  and  we  have  all  tutored 
each  other  not  to  laugh !  Both  Herbert  and  Nellie  have  some  fun 
in  them,  but  they  are  to  look  as  grave  as  judges,  as  if  Miss  Sahiba 
were  a  dead  shot ;  especially  on  a  very  dark  night,  when  there  is 
no  moon  !     Have  I  not  spectacles?' 

TO  MRS.    HAMILTON. 

'  April  23. 
'  Well,  my  loved  sister,  if  you  read  my  little  note  to  Leila  first, 
you  will  be  pleased  to  hear  that  the  night  went  over  serenely.  Even 
my  frightened  Ayah  seems  to  have  slept  peacefully  under  the  wing 
of  the  Buzurg  Miss  Sahiba,  armed  with  a  revolver  !  Would  not 
dear  Rowland  have  laughed  to  see  old  Auntie  learning  from  Herbert 
how  to  cock  and  fire  a  pistol !  I  wonder  how  Nellie  kept  her 
countenance,  when  one  of  the  servants  expressed  a  hope  that  Miss 
Sahiba  would  give  some  notice  before  firing,  for  fear  of  a  casualty 
to  one  of  the  household  ;  and  then  wanted  to  know  what  would 
happen  if  Miss  Sahiba  killed  2i  thief!  Nellie  told  the  inquirer  that 
we  English — she  was  too  truthful  to  say  the  Miss  Sahiba  in  particular 


382  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

— only  aimed  at  limbs  to  disable,  not  at  bodies  to  kill.  Nellie  knows 
pretty  well  that,  if  /  aimed  at  anything,  it  would  be  at  the  stars. 

'  I  took  care  to  lock  up  my  dangerous  weapon  before  sunrise, 
treating  my  revolver  with  great  respect.  Do  you  remember  that, 
when  I  was  known  to  be  coming  out  to  India  as  a  Missionary,  dear, 
kind  H.  Boswell  wanted  to  make  me  a  present  of  his  pistol  ?  I 
declined  it,  as  a  very  unnecessary  part  of  a  Missionary's  outfit ;  but 
I  could  not  help  remembering  H.'s  kindness  yesterday.  Though  I 
never  fired  Herbert's  revolver,  yet  the  report  of  it — to  speak  in 
Irish  style — had  a  great  effect.' 

^  May  3. — O  yes,  my  Laura,  love  your  K.^  The  Native  is 
affectionate.  Indians  are  not  usually  considered  grateful ;  perhaps 
they  are  not  grateful  for  benefits  bestowed  through  general  benevo- 
lence or  a  sense  of  duty  ;   but  my  impression  is  that  they  readily 

respond  to  affection.     This   is  one  of  the  great  secrets  of  's 

power.  ...  I  was  rather  amused  yesterday,  when  I  was  describing 

Philemon's  funeral  to   the   dear  Pandit  of  O (K.  S.),  and  had 

said  that  we  went  singing  towards  the  grave.  "  I  will  not  sing  at 
your  funeral,"  said  he.  And  then  he  told  me  how  he  had  tried  to 
sing  at  dear  Margaret's — but  it  was  quite  a  failure  ;  he  could  not 
sing,  his  heart  was  much  troubled.  The  Pandit  is  a  lovable  man  ; 
and  he  loves.' 

'  May  8,  1884.     {Her  Birthday. ) 

'When  I  came  down  in  the  morning  before  6  a.m.  I  found  in 
letters  of  gold  on  a  purple  ground  over  the  large  front  door,  "  God 
save  our  beloved  Miss  Sahiba."  I  told  dear  Babu  Singha  when 
we  met,  as  I  walked  on  towards  the  city,  that  I  liked  the  "our." 
He  observed  that  "buzurg"  seemed  to  put  me  farther  away  from 
them.  I  quite  agreed.  I  like  "our,"  which  makes  me  seem  like 
the  boys'  property.  .  .  . 

'I  was  surprised  in  a  Zenana  to-day  by  a  request  for  some  old 
article  of  my  clothes  for  a  baby.  "  I  will  give  you  some  new  cloth,'' 
said  I  ;  for  I  make  exceptions  to  my  rule  of  not  giving  presents  to 
Natives  in  Zenanas,  in  favour  of  new  babies  and  brides.  But  the 
grandfather  did  not  want  new  cloth  at  all.  He  insisted  on  some- 
thing old.  So  I  humoured  him,  and  looked  out  on  my  return  home 
for  something  that  I  had  worn.  ... 

'  How  much  I  have  to  be  thankful  for,  my  Laura  !  I  begin  my 
Tenth  September  with  a  quiet,  peaceful  feeling.  "  Oh,  how  kindly 
hast  Thou  led  me,  Heavenly  Father,  day  by  day."     But  the  best  is 

1  A  young  Indian  Convert  in  England. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  383 

to  come.  "  Light  after  darkness —  "  Not  that  my  present  position 
is  darkness  ;  but  there  is  often  weariness,  of  course.' 

^ May  15.  — I  can  so  well  enter  into  the  "thought  and  anxiety" 

caused  by .     His  mind  is  probably  in  an  effervescing  state  ;  but 

we  must  trust  and  pray  that,  after  the  froth  works  down,  something 
precious  may  remain.     Young  India  is  at  present  in  a  peculiar  state  ; 

and  does  not  stand  alone  in  his  dangerous  love  for  oratory. 

You  must  expect,  love,  to  see  some  of  the  weaknesses  of  the  Native 
character  even  in  those  on  whom  our  Blessed  Religion  has  made 
an  impression.  With  the  English — Truth,  Honour,  and  a  sense  of 
Duty  are  often  found  even  in  those  not  very  religious,  and  it  shocks 
and  disappoints  one  to  find  the  want  of  this  kind  of  moral  founda- 
tion in  some  Natives,  whose  piety  one  cannot  doubt !  !  "I  must 
do  my  duty," — "  Honour  bright  ! " — are  expressions  that  in  this  land 
need  to  be  taught. 

'The  Native  character  is  a  study.  We  can  hardly  disconnect 
pious  feeling  from  purity  and  conscientiousness.  One  must  make 
great  allowance  for  those  brought  up  in  a  tainted  atmosphere.  Do 
not  be  easily  discouraged,  love.  India  does  turn  out  some  really 
fine  fellows  ;  but  a  school  like  this  is  greatly  needed,  to  begin  moral 
tuition  early.  We  want  our  flowers  to  have  stalks  and  leaves,  and 
not  to  spread  out  their  petals  so  close  to  the  earth  as  to  be  defiled 

by  its  dust.     Let expand  his  eloquence  in  trying  to  draw  ryots  ^ 

to  Christ.  Close  contact  with  really  hard  evangelistic  work,  if  perse- 
vered in,  would  probably  do  much  to  sober  his  mind.  Let  him  be 
persuaded  that  the  Baptism  of  one  true  Convert,  however  ignorant 
and  poor,  is  a  far  higher  honour  than  the  plaudits  of  an  English 
audience.' 

''July  3,  1884. — I  have  had  two  comical  though  not  very  pleasant 
incidents. 

'  I  sent  dear  Mrs.  Singha  as  a  present  what  I  believed  to  be  a 
bottle  of  lemon  syrup,  delicious  in  hot  weather.  .  .  .  When  next  I 
went  to  the  Banyans,  Mrs.  Singha  told  me  that  I  had  sent  her  a 
bottle  of  brandy  !  I  was  astonished, — I,  who  am  virtually  a  tee- 
totaller !  I  could  hardly  believe  it.  She  produced  the  bottle ;  and, 
sure  enough,  it  was  full  of  brandy.  What  a  villain  of  a  grocer  must 
have  sold  it,  thought  I,  smuggling  brandy  in  this  way.  ..."  This 
is  sure  to  be  trashy  brandy,"  thought  I,  "which  I  should  not  dare 
to  give  in  a  case  of  illness."     So,  in  my  indignation,  I  poured  it  all 

Country  people. 


384  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

out  on  the  grass.    I  also  thought  that  I  would  write  to  good  Babu 

at  Lahore,  who  had  bought  the  bottle  for  me,  to  tell  him  of  the 
wicked  cheat  played  on  him.  Most  fortunately,  I  first  mentioned 
the  matter  to  Herbert.  "  Do  you  not  remember,"  said  he,  "  that  when 
we  wanted  a  large  bottle,  you  emptied  your  brandy  into  a  small 
one?"  I  had  perfectly  forgotten  the  fact.  O  stupid,  most  stupid, 
old  Auntie  !    And  I  had  emptied  my  bottle  on  the  grass  ! 

'  The  next  incident  was  also  a  provoking  one.  You  know  that  I 
have  had  boils.  Well,  Herbert  said  .  .  .  that  the  best  way  to  stop 
a  boil  was,  at  the  very  first  threatening,  to  put  caustic  to  the  place. 
So  I  bought  a  bit  of  caustic,  knowing  as  much  about  it  as  I  do  of 
Hebrew.  .  .  .  Just  before  starting  for  afternoon  Wednesday  Service 
in  the  city,  I  thought  that  I  had  the  slightest  possible  sensation  of 
a  boil  on  my  nose.  "  Not  a  pretty  place  to  have  a  boil  on,"  thought 
I ;  so  I  took  out  my  wee  grey  stone,  dipped  it  in  water,  and  applied 
it.  It  did  not  burn  at  all,  so  I  applied  it  again.  Then,  seeing  a 
black  spot,  hardly  visible  except  through  spectacles,  off  I  went  to 
Service. 

'  On  returning  home,  to  prepare  to  go  out  to  Miss  Hoernle's, 
how  surprised — I  may  say  almost  shocked — was  I,  on  looking  in 
my  glass  !  A  big  black  smutch  on  my  nose  ;  another  on  my  chin  ; 
and  another  on  my  thumb.  Washing  was  of  no  avail ;  salts  of 
lemon  none  ;  chloride  of  lime  none ;  soap  useless  !  I  could  not 
help  laughing,  I  was  such  a  figure  ;  and  my  Ayah  laughed  too. 
I  determined  to  give  it  to  Herbert  roundly  for  putting  me  up  to 
make  such  a  fright  of  myself  ...  As  soon  as  I  could  get  hold  of 
my  naughty  nephew,  who  was  playing  at  lawn  tennis  as  happily  as 
if  nothing  had  happened,  I  scolded  him  in  Miss  Hoernle's  presence 
as  hard  as  I  could,— considering  that  both  of  us  were  laughing. 
At  last  my  wrath  blazed  into  verse  : — 

'  "You  told  me  it  would  make  me  smart, — 
The  fear  of  pain  was  slight ; 
You  have  not  made  me  smart  at  all, — 
You  've  made  me  just  a  fright ! "  ' 

^July  10.— You  will  like  to  know  that  I  have  managed  almost 
entirely  to  get  rid  of  those  spots,  which  made  me  think  of  Lady 
Macbeth,  and  gave  me  rather  a  dislike  to  the  use  of  caustic ;  for 
one  does  not  like  to  appear  as  if  one  never  washed  either  face  or 
hands.' 

In  November  another  sorrow  came ;  the  death  of  Miss 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  385 

Tucker's  nephew  in  Canada,  Charles  Tucker,  whom  she 
had  visited  before  starting  for  India.  He  was  one  of  her 
'  Robins '  of  earlier  days  ;  and  she  felt  the  loss  much. 

It  was  in  the  course  of  1884  that  Miss  Tucker  related 
to  her  sister  a  certain  Christian  Pandit's  dream.  His 
wife  had  long  been  dangerously  ill,  and  the  husband  had 
tenderly  nursed  her.  No  other  Christians  lived  in  the 
village  except  these  two  ;  and  no  one  but  the  husband 
had  been  near  the  dying  woman  for  many  days. 

'  I  think  it  was  the  day  before  the  sufferer's  departure,'  wrote 
Miss  Tucker,  'that  the  Pandit  fell  asleep;  but  as  he  said,  "In 
sleep  I  was  praying."  He  dreamt  that  he  heard  a  voice  say,  "  I 
will  take  her  ;  she  suffers  so  much  ! "  Another  Voice,  which  he 
thinks  was  a  Divine  one,  said,  "Wait!"  On  waking,  the  Pandit 
went  to  his  wife.  She  told  him  that  Jesus  Christ  had  stood  by  her, 
and  laid  His  Hand  on  her  head.  "How  did  you  know  Him?" 
asked  the  husband.  ''^  His  Side  was  redV  Whether  the  appearance 
was  a  dream  or  not,  it  gave  comfort.  The  sufferer  departed  at  last 
in  peace.' 

There  is  no  necessity  for  any  one  to  believe  this,  on 
the  part  of  either  husband  or  wife,  to  have  been  more 
than  a  natural  dream — a  reflex  of  the  state  of  mind  and 
thought  previously.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  undoubtedly 
possible  that  help  or  comfort,  whichever  was  required, 
might  be  sent  through  the  medium  of  a  dream.  Several 
remarkable  instances  of  dreams  are  mentioned  from  time 
to  time  by  Miss  Tucker  in  her  letters, — occasionally 
vivid  enough  to  decide  a  Muhammadan  on  the  great 
step  of  becoming  a  Christian.  There  is  many  a  simple 
and  natural  means  by  and  through  which  God  speaks  to 
the  heart ;  and  dreams  may  sometimes  be  one  of  those 
means, — especially  in  '  Early  Church  days.' 

One  other  instance  of  the  kind  can  be  mentioned  here, 
while  the  subject  is  to  the  fore.  In  Charlotte  Tucker's 
Journal,    some    few    years    later,    occurs    the    following 

2B 


386  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

singular  little  entry,  when  she  is  describing  a  visit  to  a 
certain  village : — 

''Aug.  i6. — J.  R.  told  me  dream  of  Christ,  which  he  had  had  three 
or  four  years  ago.  Indignantly  repudiated  idea  that  my  pictures 
were  like  Him  Who  was  so  much  more  beautiful.  I  read  part  of 
description  of  Christ  in  Rev.  i.  ;  but  the  old  man,  with  simple 
truthfulness,  said  that  that  was  for  the  superior  person  who  had 
written.  He  was  a  poor  man  ;  he  had  only  seen  the  white  dress  and 
beautiful  shining  Face.  I  asked  if  he  had  seen  it  distinctly.  "Do  I 
see  you  who  are  before  me?"  he  replied.  "So  I  saw  Him."  His 
nephew  certified  to  J.  R.  having  told  him  of  this  dream  soon  after 
having  it.' 

It  is  very  probable  that  the  old  man  might  have 
been  dwelling  on  the  thought  of  Christ,  consciously  or 
unconsciously  endeavouring  to  picture  the  Divine  Form 
to  himself;  and  the  dream  may  have  been  a  perfectly 
natural  consequence  of  his  own  cogitations.  But  to  say 
that  a  thing  is  or  may  be  natural  is  not  to  say  that  it  can 
have  been  in  no  sense  Divinely  sent,  or  that  it  might  not 
bring  quickened  realisation  with  it. 

The  New  Year's  Day  of  1885  was  not  altogether  cheer- 
ful, despite  courageous  efforts  made,  and  parties  of  Indians: 
children  in  the  afternoon,  seniors  in  the  evening.  Two 
unfortunate  Hindus  were  accidentally  drowned  in  one  of 
the  large  Batala  tanks  ;  happily  not  that  tank  which  lay 
close  to  the  palace,  wherein  the  schoolboys  were  wont  to 
disport  themselves.  This  naturally  threw  a  shadow  over 
the  proceedings  of  the  day. 

Early  in  the  year  came  a  letter  from  the  Bishop  of 
Lahore  to  Miss  Tucker : — 

''Ja7i.  10. 

'Dear  Friend  and  Sister  in  Christ,— May  I  venture  to  ask 

if  in  the  little  room  you  may  assign  me  kindly,  during  my  short  visit 

to  Batala,  a  little  cot  may  be  placed  for  a  brother  of  mine  from  New 

'  Zealand  (a  brother  in  Christ  also),  who  is  always  pleased  to  chum  with 

me,  as  he  does  at  Bishopstow  also,  our  house  being  full  ? 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  387 

'  I  am  sorry  to  say  my  visit  must  be  limited  to  a  sojourn  with  you 
from  Friday,  30th  January,  to  Tuesday,  February  3,  as  the  Ajnala 
work  hedges  me  in  behind,  and  Lahore  and  Amritsar  Confirmations 
before.  May  I  ask  your  special  prayers,  lest  this  rather  overpowering 
crush  of  work  may  not  impair  strength  of  mind  or  tone  of  spirit,  both 
of  which  I  have  a  little  reason  to  dread  at  this  season  ?  It  is  a  com- 
fort to  know  and  to  be  assured  that  our  Faithful  Lord  will  "  stablish 
and  keep  us  from  evil."  May  His  peace,  and  love  with  faith,  be  our 
portion;  and  then  in  the  storm  we  may  sing  our  watchword,  "All 
well." — I  am,  yours,  with  ever  affectionate  and  grateful  regards, 

'Thomas  V.  Lahore. 

'  Affectionate  good  wishes  to  your  whole  party. 

'  This  will,  alas  !  break  up  my  itinerating  plan  ;  not  for  ever,  I 
trust.' 

A  fortnight  later  Miss  Tucker  wrote  to  her  sister,  on 
January  24 : — 

'  You  will  have  seen  in  the  paper  that  our  good  Bishop  has  lost  his 
daughter.  I  wrote  to  him  a  little  note  of  sympathy  which  he  was 
not  to  answer  ;  but  he  did  reply  in  his  own  gracious,  characteristic 
style.  We  expect  the  Bishop  here  next  week  for  a  Confirmation  ; 
and  he  has  asked  leave  to  bring  a  Christian  brother  from  New 
Zealand.  Whether  the  brother  be  an  emigrant  or  one  of  the 
aborigines,  we  know  not.     We  are  prepared  for  either.' 

TO   MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

'Feb.  4,  1885. 
*  The  interesting  Confirmation  took  place  on  Saturday,  .  .  .  after 
which  we  partook  of  the  Holy  Communion.     I  think  Herbert  said 
that  there  were  41  Communicants.     We  never  had  so  many  before 
in  our  chapel.     The  dear,  saintly  Bishop  left  on  Tuesday  morning.' 

TO   MRS.   HAMILTON, 

'March  28,  1885. 
'You  should  have  seen  Ellie  and  me  down  on  the  floor  to-day, 
pinning  down  the  dusters  for  the  chess-board.  It  so  happens  that 
there  is  an  unusual  influx  of  Native  Christian  visitors  at  present — 
R.  R.,  his  winsome  lady  and  two  daughters,  J.'s  mother,  and  S., 
a  fledged  bird,  and  these  with  the  numerous  Singhas  and  the  Native 
Pastor  will  make  quite  a  gathering.     I  rather  expect  to  play  badly  ; 


388  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

but  the  great  thing  is  to  be  quick  and  dashing,  and  to  move  as  many 
pieces  as  possible  ;  and  not  to  be  disturbed  by  the  bursts  of  laughter 
likely  to  follow  any  check  given  or  piece  taken.  Would  you  not 
like  to  be  present, — near  me  ? 

'  Well,  as  I  rather  expected,  I  was  beaten,  though  I  had  the  best 
of  the  game  at  first.  I  never  heard  such  noisy  pieces  of  chess  as  the 
dear  brown  boys  were,  when  they  were  first  marshalled  on  the  board, 
and  had  to  don  their  crowns,  regal  or  mural,  their  mitres  and  their 
horses'  heads.  Our  Afghan  hero,  C.  C,  was  a  knight,  and  enjoyed 
himself  very  much.  I  think  that  there  was  only  one  piece,  or  at 
most  two,  that  was  not  moved.' 

''April  23,  1885.— My  nephew  Herbert  ...  is  absent  again  on 
Mission  work.  He  has  heard  that  there  is  a  spirit  of  earnest  inquiry 
amongst  a  number  of  poor  low-caste  village  folk,  I  think  about  ten  or 
eleven  miles  from  Batala.  He  has  gone  to  look  personally  into  the 
matter  ;  and  if  he  finds  that  these  lowly  peasants  are  really  seeking 
after  God,  we  will  try  to  make  some  arrangement  for  their  instruction. 
Herbert  will  see  if  it  be  advisable  for  an  English  lady  and  Native 
Bible-woman  to  go  for  a  short  time,  and  to  fix  some  suitable  agent 
(Native)  to  reside  amongst  the  poor  people,  and  start  a  school.  Of 
course,  this  involves  expense ;  but  if  corn  at  last  be  springing  up, 
it  must  not  be  neglected.  It  is  such  a  comfort  to  have  one,  wise, 
good,  and  active,  like  dear  Herbert,  to  look  after  such  matters.  .  .  . 

'  If  you  happen  to  meet  with  dear  Mrs.  W ,  please  tell  her  that 

her  Cross  gleams  in  my  room  every  night.  Her  pretty  straw  basket 
is  so  77iuch  admired  in  the  zenanas.  .  .  . 

*  Our  Church-building  is  growing  rapidly  under  Herbert's  auspices. 
The  "  Mission  Plough"  too  surprises  me  by  its  growth.  I  hear  that 
there  are  105  boys  there  now.  But  we  have  not  a  sufficiently  strong 
staff  of  teachers.  The  Inspector  (Government)  was  pleased  with  the 
school,  but  said  that  we  should  have  a  stronger  staff.  We  know 
that  too.' 

''May  8.— I  saw  Miss  B.  a  few  days  ago.  She  saw  you  in 
London,  and  thought  that  we  resembled  each  other.  "  But  I  hope 
that  my  sister  looks  much  younger  than  I  do,"  said  I.  "  Does  she 
look  twenty  years  younger?"  To  my  satisfaction.  Miss  B.  agreed 
that  you  did.  So  my  Laura  keeps  her  looks,  though  not  feeling  so 
strong  as  I  should  wish  her  to  do.' 

''June  22,  1885.  ...  I  must  amuse  with  the  following  per- 
fectly authentic  anecdote.     There  was  a  nice  young  couple,  as  nice 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  389 

as  Fred  and  Maud  perhaps,  and  they  had  a  nice  little  baby.  One 
day  the  inexperienced  Mamma  banged  the  baby's  head.  Accidents 
will  happen,  you  know,  in  the  best -regulated  families.  The  young 
mother  was  conscientious  ;  she  felt  that  she  ought  to  confess  the 
banging  to  the  father  of  the  child.  With  tearful  eyes  she  went  to  her 
husband,  and  owned  that  she  had  banged  her  baby's  head.  Then 
the  husband,  gaining  courage  from  the  brave  woman's  truthfulness, 
confessed  that  he  had  done  the  very  same  !  he  had  banged  the  baby's 
head,  but  had  not  liked  to  own  it.  The  baby  does  not  appear  to  have 
been  the  worse  for  the  two  bangs  ;  perhaps  they  were  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  little  head,  and  counteracted  each  other.  Still — fathers 
and  mothers  had  better  not  try  the  experiment  of  how  much  bang- 
ing a  baby  will  bear.     Don't  you  think  so,  darling  .^' 

^July  13. — I  was  interested  in  hearing  what  was  said  to  E.  by  the 
lad  last  baptized.  ..."  I  have  nearly  got  through  my  temptations," 
said  he.  Of  course,  I  cannot  give  his  exact  words,  which  were  in 
Urdu  ;  but  their  drift.  The  lad  thought  that  forty  days  of  temptation 
succeed  a  convert's  Baptism,  and  said,  "  I  have  only  eleven  left."  .  .  . 
"  But  do  you  think  that  you  will  never  be  tempted  afterwards  ? "  asked 
E.  Poor  B.  did  not  think  that,  but  he  thought  that  the  first  forty 
days  were  the  worst ;  and  perhaps  he  is  right.' 

''Nov.  13,  1885. — I  think  that  it  will  amuse  you  and  my  dear  god- 
daughter, if  I  tell  you  of  my  first  attempt  regularly  to  make  a 
marriage,  and  what  were  the  consequences  thereof 

'  I  had  been  told  by  the  experienced  Native  Christian,  whom  I 
will  call  M.,  the  proper  way  to  carry  on  a  negotiation.  He  told 
me  long  ago  that  a  "Buzurg"  (elder)  should  ask  the  parents  for  the 
maid.  There  being  a  union  which  we  Missionaries  thought  suitable 
and  desirable,  ...  I,  the  most  buzurg  of  all  our  circle,  at  the  desire 
of  the  fine  young  suitor,— whom  I  will  call  B., — went  in  my  duli  to 
M.'s  house,  to  ask  his  lovely  daughter  in  marriage  for  my  client. 
I  managed  to  have  both  parents  present,  and  sent  the  maiden  away. 
It  would  have  been  a  great  breach  of  etiquette  for  her  to  have 
heard  me. 

'  I  felt  that  I  was  doing  all  in  proper  Oriental  style.  The  parents 
listened  ;  we  talked  over  the  advantages  of  the  union  ;  and  M.  and 
his  wife  were  to  give  me  their  reply  on  the  following  day. 

'  But  Orientals  take  their  time.  I  heard  nothing  on  the  following 
day ;  so  on  the  third  I  sent  my  salaam  to  M.  and  desired  to  see  him. 
He  came,  smiled,  was  highly  agreeable,  said  that  he  was  willing,  but 
must  consult  his  brother,  etc. 


390  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

'  /  thought  that  some  one  else  should  be  consulted  ;  namely,  the 
young  lady.  I  was  going  to  Amritsar  ...  so  I  resolved  to  have  a 
private  interview  with  the  maiden,  whose  future  was  to  be  decided 

upon.     The  lovely — let's  call  her  X. — had  returned  to ;  so  there 

I  sought  her,  and  had  a  tite-a-tete.  I  wanted  to  know  whether 
she  cared  for  B.,  whom  she  had  had  many  opportunities  of  seeing 
from  her  childhood.  .  .  .  We  had  almost  taken  it  for  granted  that 
X.  must  care  for  him. 

'  Hitherto  all  had  gone  pretty  smoothly.  I  had  even  thought 
what  presents  I  should  give,  and  the  Weitbrechts  and  I  had  talked 
over  the  day  for  the  wedding.  But  an  unexpected  obstacle  arose. 
X.  could  make  no  objection  to  B.  ;  I  do  not  think  that  she  has  a 
thought  for  any  other  suitor  ;  but  she  does  not  want  to  marry  at  all ! 
"  I  want  to  read,"  she  said.     "  I  wish  to  remain  like  you  !  " 

'  This  opened  our  eyes  to  a  peril  in  the  infant  Church,  of  which  you 
probably  never  would  dream.  Ellie  and  I  set  to  counting  up  young 
maidens  who  are  of  a  suitable  age  to  become  brides,— well-educated, 
nice  girls, — and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  a  kind  of  fashion  is 
setting  in  not  to  marry.  The  Native  delights  in  imitating  the 
European.  The  girls  see  that  most  female  Missionaries,  whom  they 
love  and  honour,  are  unmarried.  They  enjoy  freedom.  .  .  .  Christian 
women  are  at  a  premium.  Widows  are  eagerly  sought  as  Bible- 
women.  .  .  . 

'  Of  course,  I  would  never  wish  X.  to  marry  one  she  does  not  care 
for.  I  have  told  her  father  that  the  matter  is  at  an  end.  But  he  looks 
grave  enough,  and  sees  the  peril  to  our  Infant  Church  as  clearly  as 
we  do.  If  our  nice  maidens  scorn  to  marry,  where  are  our  fine,  well- 
educated  men  to  find  Christian  wives  ?  How  are  girls — except  in 
very  rare  cases— to  work  in  zenanas  without  the  care  of  a  husband? 
It  would  be  thought  improper,  hardly  safe. 

'"The  consequences  are"  that  I  have  written  a  httle  book  in 
honour  of  the  holy  estate  of  Matrimony  ;  which — the  new  book — has 
had  Ellie's  approval,  and  I  am  sending  it  to  Herbert  for  his.  What 
we  want  in  India  are  good  wives  and  mothers.  No  science  or  litera- 
ture can  make  up  for  the  lack  of  such.' 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  this  year  that  Miss  Tucker 
mentioned  in  one  letter  a  curious  little  scene  at  the  railway 
station.  She  had  gone  there  to  meet  a  friend,  who  failed 
to  arrive.  Two  young  Native  Christians  happening  to  be 
present,  and  also  a  young  English  officer  of  her  acquaint- 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  391 

ance,  she  brought  them  together  with  a  kind  of  half 
introduction.  When  she  had  left  the  station,  the  officer 
began  talking  to  the  two,  asking  lightly  why  they  had 
left  their  own  religion  for  another.  'It's  all  the  same,' 
he  said.  *  Muhammadans,  Hindus,  Christians,  all  know 
that  there  is  One  God.'  This  far  from  brilliant  remark 
received  an  answer  which  it  well  deserved.  '  If  so,'  one  of 
the  Indians  replied,  'what  difference  is  there  between  you, 
us,  and  the  Devil  ?  '  The  train  moved  on,  carrying  the 
speaker  away ;  and  no  more  could  be  said.  But  more 
might  have  weakened  the  force  of  the  retort. 

A  few  slight  memoranda,  contributed  by  two  Native 
Christians,  come  next.  The  first  are  sent  by  Dr.  I.  U. 
Nasir,  formerly  one  of  the  boys  in  the  Baring  High  School, 
already  quoted  in  an  earlier  chapter.  He  speaks  of  him- 
self as  an  adopted  '  son '  of  Miss  Tucker's,  not,  like  others 
a  '  nephew.'  The  second  set  of  extracts,  which  I  give  last, 
not  because  they  are  of  inferior  interest,  but  because  I  wish 
to  accentuate  one  suggestion,  by  letting  it  end  the  chapter, 
are  from  the  Rev.  Mian  Sadiq,  at  one  time  Indian  clergy- 
man in  Amritsar,  and  later  the  same  in  Batala. 


'  Of  all  the  India's  sons,  especially  those  with  whom  she  had  to 
deal  at  Batala,  it  was  my  privilege  to  be  called  her  "  son."  She  was 
an  "Aunt"  to  a  good  many  Missionaries,  but  only  did  she  allow  me  to 
call  her  "  Mother"  ;  and  she  did  love  me  as  a  true  mother.  .  .  . 

'  The  one  thing  most  noticeable  about  her  was  that  she  was  so  self- 
denying  and  humble,  considerate  for  others'  feelings,  and  tender- 
hearted. She  would  tend  the  sick  with  such  motherly  care  ;  and  if  the 
disease  was  a  dangerous  one,  or  infectious,  she  would  insist  on  sitting 
by  the  bedside,  and  not  allow  others  to  run  the  risk  of  contracting 
the  disease.  On  one  occasion  a  poor,  dirty  convert  was  suffering  from 
fever,  and  had  no  clothes.  Miss  Tucker  gave  him  her  bedding  for 
the  night,  and  spent  the  winter  night  herself  sitting  before  a  fire. 
Above  all  she  hated  "  I's."  I  remember  only  one  occasion  when 
she  desired  us  to  do  something  for  her.     She  had  regular  morning 


392  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

and  evening  walks  in  the  fields  ;  but  getting  a  little  tired  sometimes 
of  waiting  till  the  Church  bell  sounded,  she  wished  a  small  terrace  to 
be  raised,  just  sufficient  to  seat  her.  A  small  rude  platform  was 
raised  for  her  by  the  side  of  a  babul  tree.  She  may  have  selected 
that  particular  spot,  because  it  gave  a  very  picturesque  view  of  the 
"  stately  palace,"  with  the  "  tank  with  lihes  blowing "  in  the  fore- 
ground,— now  turned  into  an  artificial  canal. 

'  Her  reticence  regarding  her  own  life  and  work  was  extreme. 
This  much  I  remember  from  her  occasional  talks,  incidentally  dropped 
from  her  :  that  she  was  eight  years  old  when  she  read  Shakespeare  ; 
she  was  eleven  when  she  began  to  compose  ;  and  at  twenty-one  she 
sent  her  first  book  to  press.  ^  She  wrote  to  me  once  how  much  she 
exulted  over  her  first  printed  composition.  .  .  . 

'  At  that  advanced  age  how  much  she  could  accomplish  in  a  single 
day  was  a  wonder  to  everybody.  Her  vast  correspondence,  reading 
of  books  and  papers,  her  literary  compositions,  her  school  classes, 
Bible-meetings,  various  interviews,  were  so  gracefully  and  naturally 
managed.  Still,  all  these  were  held  in  the  background,  and  jealously 
guarded  against  encroaching  upon  her  Missionary  work.  .  .  . 

'  She  was  reading  the  sermon  (Spurgeon's)  on  Christ's  first  miracle 
at  Cana.  She  read  there  that  our  duty  was  to  fill  the  jars  to  the 
brim  ;  and  it  was  Christ's  work  to  turn  them  into  wine.  This  led  to 
the  self-examining  question,  "Am  I  filling  the  jars  to  the  brim  1  Can 
I  not  work  a  little  more  for  Christ  than  I  have  hitherto  done  }  "  This 
gave  her  strength  in  her  feebleness  ;  and  from  that  day  she  spent  an 
hour  more  in  the  zenanas  than  she  used  to  do.  Considering  the 
various  discouragements  she  met  in  her  Missionary  work,  it  was  no 
small  matter  to  take  this  step, — and  this  too  at  a  time  when  it  was 
an  effort  to  walk,  not  to  speak  of  ascending  perpendicular  flights  of 
stairs  in  the  zenanas.  .  .  . 

'  The  one  thing  which  was  not  liked  by  some  people  about  her  was 
that  she  had  an  extreme  disgust  of  Natives  taking  to  English  dress, 
which  she  invariably  designated  "  ugly."  She  regretted  on  several 
occasions  that  her  age  and  habits  did  not  allow  of  her  adopting  the 
"graceful  dopatia^^  (head  cover)  in  preference  to  her  hat.  .  .  . 

'  Her  ideas  about  the  burial  system  were  very  definite.  She  would 
take  up  the  thread  of  St.  Paul's  argument,  and  compare  the  human 
body  to  a  seed  of  grain,  which  should  be  simply  buried  under  the 
earth,  and  not  shut  up  in  a  box  and  placed  in  the  ground.  She 
several  times  expressed  her  desire  to  be  simply  wrapped  up  in  a  clean 

1  This  is  a  mistake.     She  was  thirty-one. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  393 

sheet  and  carried  by  her  boys  to  the  cemetery  when  her  turn  came, 
and  then  laid  in  the  grave  as  one  naturally  sleeping.' 

II. 

'During  Mr.  Baring's  absence  in  England  in  1881,  one  cold  night 
Miss  Tucker  noticed  in  the  Chapel  a  man  shivering  with  cold.  He 
was  one  of  the  non-Christian  servants  of  the  school.  After  Service 
she  called  him,  and  asked  him  if  he  had  more  clothes.  The  man 
said  "  No."  He  was  shivering,  as  he  had  fever.  She  told  him  to 
wait,  and  ran  upstairs.  She  came  back  in  a  minute  with  a  beautiful 
rug.  She  told  the  man  she  could  not  give  it  to  him,  as  it  was  a 
present  from  her  sister,  but  she  would  lend  it  to  him  for  the  night, 
and  would  buy  a  country  blanket  for  him  the  next  day.  I  asked  her 
what  she  was  going  to  do  herself  She  said  she  would  keep  a  fire  in 
her  bedroom,  and  that  would  keep  her  warm. 

'  I  saw  her  many  times  picking  up  pieces  of  broken  glass  or  bottles. 
She  said  poor  people  who  walk  barefoot  get  hurt  by  these.  She  has 
known  cases  in  which  men  suffered  for  weeks  from  wounds  received 
from  these. 

'  She  was  not  kind  to  men  only,  but  to  animals.  One  summer 
morning,  as  she  was  coming  from  the  city,  after  doing  her  work  in 
the  Zenanas,  she  saw  a  poor  donkey  with  a  sore  back,  troubled  by  a 
crow.  She  came  home,  took  a  piece  of  cloth,  went  to  the  place  where 
she  saw  the  donkey,  tied  the  cloth,  and  came  back  and  took  her 
breakfast.  .  .  . 

'  Her  example  has  done  a  great  deal  in  removing  caste  feelings 
among  Christians.  Batala  was  a  place  for  feasts.  In  these  feasts  all 
Christians  were  invited.  She  generally  sat  with  low-caste  Converts, 
and  ate  with  them.  .  .  . 

'Once  for  sending  a  girl  to  an  orphanage  she  sent  for  a  prospectus 
of  the  school.  In  it  two  warm  dresses  were  put  down  in  the  list  of 
clothes.  '  It  is  very  unreasonable,'  she  said,  '  to  require  two  warm 
dresses.'  She  had  herself  only  one,  and  that  she  had  been  using  for 
the  last  nine  years.  Her  poem,  "  What  a  Missionary  Miss  Sahiba 
should  be,"  is  an  embodiment  of  what  she  was.' 

One  more  short  sentence  from  the  same  source  is  worthy 
of  particular  attention  :  '  When  ill,  Miss  Tucker  did  not 
like  to  inform  her  friends  of  it,  lest  her  friends  should  leave 
their  work  and  come  to  nurse  her.  She  often  expressed  a 
wish  that  there  were  MISSION  NURSES,  who  could  attend 


394    LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

to  the  sick  Missionaries.     Without  these,  when  one  got  ill, 
others  were  taken  from  their  work  to  nurse  her.' 

In  an  earlier  chapter  it  was  suggested  that  some  ladies, 
wishing  to  find  a  vocation,  might  offer  themselves  as 
Honorary  helpers  to  the  more  regular  Missionaries  in 
certain  lines,  among  which  Nursing  was  included.  Here 
it  seems  that  the  same  thought  had  distinctly  occurred  to 
the  mind  of  Charlotte  Tucker.  Why  should  not  a  little 
Band  of  Honorary  Nurses  for  India  be  organised, — Nurses, 
trained  and  capable,  holding  themselves  ready  to  go 
wherever  their  services  may  be  required  by  any  sick 
Missionary,  so  that  the  steady  work  of  other  Missionaries 
should  not  be  unnecessarily  interrupted  by  the  illness  of 
one  of  their  number?  The  idea  is  at  least  worth  con- 
sideration, since  apparently  it  would  have  met  with  the 
approval  of  A.  L.  O.  E. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

A.D.  1885-1886 

ON   THE   river's   BRINK 

Changes  again  were  impending.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Weit- 
brecht,  after  two  years'  work  in  Batala,  were  to  quit  the 
place ;  and  in  their  stead  would  come  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Corfield, — the  former  as  new  Principal  of  the  High  School. 
It  is  singular  to  note  one  Missionary  after  another  thus 
coming  and  going,  while  Charlotte  Tucker,  with  resolute 
perseverance,  held  to  her  post. 

At  last  she  too  began  to  think  of  a  change.  Not  of 
leaving  Batala ;  not  of  going  home,  for  even  the  shortest 
of  furloughs !  Such  an  idea  perhaps  never  so  much  as 
occurred  to  her  mind.  She  simply  began  to  think  of 
altering  her  residence  in  Batala.  At  Anarkalli  she  had 
lived  with  Miss  Swainson,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Beutel,  with 
Natives  alone,  with  Mr.  Baring,  with  Mr.  Baring  and  his 
wife,  with  Mr.  ^ind  Mrs  Weitbrecht ;  and  now  another 
'  upheaval '  had  become  imminent. 

The  notion  of  a  move  was  apparently  at  first  her  own, 
though  others  soon  looked  upon  it  as  desirable.  Two 
German  ladies.  Miss  Hoernle  and  Miss  Krapf,  dwelt  to- 
gether in  the  cosy  little  Mission  Bungalow,  which  they  had 
named  '  Sonnenschein '  or  '  Sunshine.'  No  room  remained 
for  a  third  inmate ;  but  Miss  Tucker  formed  a  plan  of 
building  a  small  annexe  to  the  west  of  '  Sunshine,'  for  her 
own  use  ;  and  to  this  tiny  annexe  she  resolved  to  give  the 

name  of '  Gurub  i  Aftab,'  or  *  Sunset' 

395 


396  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Mrs.  Hamilton,  on  first  hearing  of  the  scheme,  was 
somewhat  distressed  at  the  thought  of  such  a  change  for 
her  '  Char '  ;  but  Miss  Tucker  wrote  to  assure  her  of  no 
move  until  the  new  building  should  be  perfectly  dry. 
Also  a  long  letter  from  Mr.  Weitbrecht  set  before  Mrs. 
Hamilton,  with  kind  clearness,  the  advantages  of  the  plan. 
Among  other  reasons  urged  was  the  overcrowded  state  of 
the  palace,  where  more  room  for  the  School  was  urgently 
needed  ;  and  also  the  desirability  that  Miss  Tucker,  in 
advancing  years,  should  not  constantly  have  to  climb  a 
steep  and  awkward  staircase,  which  had  of  late  greatly 
tried  her  strength. 

It  is  probable  that  for  some  little  time  past  there  had 
been  a  certain  failure  of  power,  evidenced  by  such  facts  as 
this,  though  made  very  little  of  by  herself,  and  perhaps 
little  marked  by  others,  because  of  her  determined  cheer- 
fulness and  persistence  in  work. 

Still,  as  always,  she  rose  at  six  in  winter,  and  at  half- 
past  four  in  summer  ;  had  her  little  breakfast  of  cocoa  and 
sweet  biscuits  ;  then  read  and  studied  till  eight.  At  8  A.M., 
whether  in  summer  or  in  winter,  she  seldom  failed  to  take 
her  rapid  '  Devotional  walk '  out  of  doors,  up  and  down, 
till  summoned  to  Prayers  by  the  Chapel  gong.  Then 
came  breakfast  proper ;  after  which  she  would  still,  as 
always,  go  out  in  her  duli  for  three  or  four  hours  of 
Zenana- visiting.  Next  followed  correspondence;  lunch; 
classes  of  English  history  and  English  literature  for  the 
elder  boys  ;  then  afternoon  tea  ;  then  sometimes  more 
reading  of  a  Native  language,  and  visiting  of  Native 
Christians.  This  was  the  manner  of  day  that  she  spent, 
week  in,  week  out,  month  after  month,  often  for  ten  or 
eleven  months  at  a  stretch ;  varied  only  by  itinerating 
expeditions  into  neighbouring  villages,  or  an  occasional 
trip  to  Amritsar, — the  latter  seldom,  except  on  business  of 
some  kind.     And  she  had  been  living  this  life  now  for 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  397 

at  least  eight  or  nine  years  !  Small  wonder  that  a  break- 
down should  come  at  last.  The  marvel  was  that  it  had 
not  come  sooner.  A  chill  and  a  bad  smell  were  the  imme- 
diate cause, — they  usually  are  in  such  cases,  acting  upon 
exhausted  powers. 

Up  to  Thursday,  December  10,  things  were  much  as 
usual.  That  morning  she  went  on  her  ordinary  city 
round,  and  then  to  a  Native  wedding,  where  she  was  very 
much  tried  by  a  bad  smell  from  a  drain,  though  her  innate 
courtesy  would  not  allow  her  to  hurry  away.  On  reaching 
home  she  was  in  a  chilled  and  shivering  condition,  with 
the  beginning  of  a  sore  throat.  In  the  afternoon  fever  and 
drowsiness  came  on. 

For  a  day  or  two  there  seemed  to  be  an  improvement. 
Mrs.  Weitbrecht,  who  was  to  have  left  Batala  before  Sunday, 
on  account  of  health,  deferred  her  journey  until  Monday. 

Nothing  could  induce  Miss  Tucker  to  remain  at  home 
on  Saturday.  She  started  as  usual  for  the  city  ;  and  on 
her  return  she  told  Mrs.  Weitbrecht '  how  glad  she  was  to 
have  gone,'  adding,  '  I  am  always  especially  glad  when  I  go 
to  the  city,  feeling  it  a  little  effort  to  do  so.'  One  is  dis- 
posed to  imagine  that  it  must  have  been  more  than  a  little 
effort,  on  that  particular  day ;  and  the  words  contain  a 
revelation  as  to  past '  efforts'  when  unfit  for  the  work  which 
she  never  would  neglect.  Dr.  H.  M.  Clark  had  been  asked 
to  come  over,  but  she  utterly  declined  to  see  him,  except  as 
a  friend,  refusing  to  consider  herself  ill.  On  Sunday  she 
was  at  both  the  Church  Services, '  kept  up,'  as  Mr.  Bateman 
said, '  by  her  indomitable  spirit ' ;  and  in  the  afternoon  she 
had,  as  always,  her  Class  of  boys.  On  Monday  morning 
she  made  her  appearance  early,  to  see  Mrs.  Weitbrecht 
off, — very  bright  and  cheery,  wrapping  up  sandwiches, 
and  determinedly  hiding  how  ill  she  really  felt,  for  fear 
Mrs.  Weitbrecht's  departure  should  be  again  delayed. 

Things  could  not  go  on  thus  much  longer.    Miss  Tucker 


398  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

had  made  a  brave  fight, — too  brave  for  her  own  good  ! — 
but  illness  was  now  fast  gaining  the  upper  hand.  She  did 
not  again  attempt  city  visiting, — a  sure  sign  of  her  con- 
dition ;  and  much  time  that  day  was  spent  in  a  half-doze. 
Towards  night  she  became  light-headed,  and  was  so  weak 
that  they  had  to  carry  her  to  bed.  Miss  Hoernle  decided 
to  sleep  at  the  palace,  so  as  to  be  within  easy  call  if  needed  ; 
but  in  the  early  morning  she  found  her  patient  up,  writing 
a  letter,  and  of  course  avowing  herself  '  better.'  The 
improvement,  if  it  existed,  was  very  brief  Fever  again 
set  in,  with  weakness  and  delirium  ;  and  Dr.  H.  M.  Clark 
was  sent  for.  On  Tuesday  Mr.  Clark  came  too,  and  that 
evening  he  sent  for  Miss  Wauton  to  go  over  from  Amritsar 
on  Wednesday  morning.  Mr.  Rowland  Bateman  also  was 
speedily  on  the  spot.  Somewhat  later  in  the  week  a 
telegram  summoned  A.  L.  O.  E.'s  nephew  and  niece.  Major 
Louis  Tucker  and  Mrs.  Tucker. 

For  three  days  the  greatest  possible  anxiety  was  felt ; 
and  on  the  Thursday  another  medical  man  was  telegraphed 
for,  that  a  consultation  might  take  place.  The  result  of  the 
consultation  was  not  favourable.  Dr.  P.  on  first  seeing  Miss 
Tucker  thought  she  might  live  a  week,  but  when  going  away 
he  expressed  a  fear  that  half  that  time  would  see  the  end. 

Both  before  and  after  Dr.  P.'s  coming  there  was  exces- 
sive restlessness,  and  a  great  deal  of  delirium,  though  the 
latter  was  never  of  a  painful  kind,  and  she  always  knew 
those  who  were  about  her.  She  was  at  times  extremely 
anxious  to  get  up,  and  she  showed  vexation  at  not  being 
allowed  to  do  so.  Once,  when  thus  controlled,  she  said  to 
Mr.  Weitbrecht  with  respect  to  her  nurses  : 

'  Couldn't  you  take  them  to  see  the  Church  ? ' 

'  But,  Auntie  dear,  we  have  seen  the  Church  already,' 
they  assured  her. 

'  Then  take  them  somewhere  else,'  she  said, — '  only  take 
them  a  long  way  off  I ' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  399 

This  evidently  remained  on  her  mind  ;  for  the  next  day 
she  began  to  talk  about  the  Salvation  Army,  and  the 
doctrine  of  Perfection  in  this  life,  as  taught  by  its  devotees. 

'  It  is  a  doctrine  of  the  devil,'  she  said  emphatically. 

'Tell that  I  had  an  outbreak  of  anger  and  petulance 

only  yesterday.  I  wanted  to  go  to  my  own  room,  and  I 
was  quite  cross  when  they  would  not  let  me.  I  think  the 
Lord  let  that  be,  that  we  might  see  how  weak  and  sinful 
we  are.  I  am  sixty-four  years  old, — and  they  who  are  so 
much  younger  than  I  am  would  not  let  me  get  up  !  They 
treated  me  just  as  if  I  were  a  child  ;  and  I  could  not  bear 
to  be  made  into  a  little  child  ;  and  so  the  Lord  put  me 
down.  These  doctrines  are  the  snare  of  the  devil.  They 
make  presumptuous  people  more  presumptuous  ;  and  they 
are  calculated  to  drive  conscientious  people  madl'  The 
last  words  were  repeated  ;  and  Miss  Tucker  went  on  to 
mention  two  cases,  known  to  herself,  where  individuals  had 
become  actually  insane  through  '  perfectionist '  teaching. 

She  talked  in  her  delirium  almost  incessantly,  showing 
extreme  mental  activity,  an  activity  which  never  failed,  even 
when  exhaustion  was  greatest.  She  dictated  letters  ;  she 
composed  verses  and  comic  parodies  ;  she  repeated  texts 
and  long  sentences  in  Hindustani ;  she  sang  with  animation 
a  cricket-song  for  the  boys,  and  then  a  hymn  in  Hindu- 
stani or  English.  Sometimes  her  drollery  was  so  intense 
that  her  nurses,  in  all  their  anxiety,  shook  with  laughter 
to  hear  the  things  she  said.  And  all  through,  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  one  thing  never  failed, — her  radiant  happiness 
in  the  thought  of  going  Home. 

While  recognising  those  who  were  really  present,  she 
fancied  that  others  were  there  also,  and  talked  to  them. 
Generally  she  could  reason  quietly  about  these  ap- 
pearances, saying  that  she  knew  they  were  'shadows.' 
She  does  not  seem  to  have  felt  thus  about  the  evil  spirits, 
which  she  thought  she  saw.     She  pointed  to  where  she 


400  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

believed  them  to  be,  asking,  '  Do  you  see  them  ? '  Then 
addressing  the  spirits,  she  continued  :  '  I  am  not  afraid  of 
you !  You  can  do  nothing  to  me !  I  belong  to  Jesus ! 
Don't  sit  there,  at  the  foot  of  my  bed.  Go  away ;  you 
cannot  touch  me  ! ' 

The  strong  doses  of  quinine  made  her  very  deaf,  so  that 
she  could  hear  little  of  what  went  on  around  her  bed  ;  but 
she  heard  what  others  could  not  hear, — sounds  of  music 
filling  the  room. 

Sometimes  she  imagined  herself  to  be  in  Zenanas, 
talking  to  the  Bibis,  and  pleading  earnestly  with  them. 
Or  again  she  wondered  why  her  kahars  did  not  come  to 
take  her  thither. 

'What  to  me  was  most  remarkable,'  wrote  Mr.  Clark 
afterwards,  *  was  her  perfect  cheerfulness  and  happiness  ; 
thinking  of  everything  and  every  one  around  her,  and  talk- 
ing of  the  most  common  things,  and  doing  it  all  in  the 
light  of  Eternity ;  standing  on  the  very  brink  of  another 
world,  and  yet  forgetting  nothing,  but  thinking  of  almost 
everything  in  this.  ...  It  was  at  times  even  amusing,  for 
there  was  no  sadness  in  her  perpetual  sunshine.' 

On  Friday  morning,  the  day  after  the  consultation.  Miss 
Tucker  woke  very  early,  and  asked  to  have  her  desk,  that 
she  might  write.  This  of  course  could  not  be  allowed. 
Later  in  the  same  day  Mr.  Weitbrecht  went  in  to  see  her, 
just  after  an  interview  with  Dr.  Clark,  and  she  inquired, 
*  What  does  the  doctor  say  ? ' 

Mr.  W^eitbrecht  endeavoured  to  avoid  giving  any  direct 
reply^  speaking  only  of  one  symptom  which  the  Doctor 
had  named  as  encouraging.  Then  came  the  point-blank 
question  : 

'  Yes  ;  but  does  he  think  I  shall  die,  or  recover  ? ' 

'  He  cannot  tell.' 

Miss  Tucker  was  not  to  be  so  put  off.  An  answer  she 
would  have.     *  I  am  very  deaf  with  the  quinine,'  she  said. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  401 

*  I  can't  hear  what  you  say.  If  he  thinks  I  shall  stay,  do 
this  ! ' — holding  up  her  hand  ; — '  and  if  sinking,  this  ! ' — 
dropping  it. 

There  was  no  choice  left.  Truth  compelled  Mr.  Weit- 
brecht  to  lower  gently  his  hand.  'Whereupon,'  as  Mr. 
Bateman  relates,  *  a  smile  and  an  almost  shout  of  joy 
escaped  her.' 

*  I  am  so  glad  ! '  she  exclaimed.  '  So  glad  to  be  dying  in 
harness !  And  to  think  that  I  shall  be  no  trouble  to  any- 
body !  ...  It  is  too  good  to  be  true,  that  I  am  going 
Home.  .  .  .  The  bowl  is  broken  at  the  fountain  ! '  Then 
she  repeated  the  simple  verse  beginning, 

' "  And  when  I  'm  to  die, 
Receive  me,  I  '11  cry. 
For  Jesus  has  loved  me, 
I  cannot  tell  why  ! " ' 

What  Charlotte  Tucker  experienced,  on  seeing  that 
lowered  hand,  may  be  to  some  extent  realised  by  reading 
her  '  Dream '  of  the  Second  Advent,  given  in  an  earlier 
chapter.  Heaven  to  her  was  '  Home ' ;  many  of  her 
nearest  and  dearest  were  already  in  Paradise  ;  and  '  death,' 
so  called,  would  mean  re-union  with  those  dear  ones. 
Charlotte  Tucker  could  from  her  very  heart  re-echo  the 
poet's  words, — with  a  most  practical  belief  in  them, — 
'  There  is  no  Death  ;  what  seems  so  is  Transition.'  During 
years  past  she  had  longed  for  this  Transition  ;  striving  only 
not  to  be  impatient,  but  to  await  cheerfully  God's  own  time. 

And  now,  it  seemed,  she  was  to  go  !  Not  only  to  leave 
sin  and  sorrow  behind  ;  not  only  to  be  young  and  strong 
again  ;  not  only  to  see  such  beauty  and  glory  as  our  Earth 
can  never  show ;  not  only  to  '  mount  up  with  wings,  as 
eagles,'  into  splendid  new  spheres  of  knowledge  and  thought, 
of  employment  and  work.  All  these  things,  though  real, 
were  secondary.  The  overwhelming  delight  of  going  Home, 
whether  by  the  Coming  of  Christ,  or  through  the  '  grave 
2C 


402  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

and  gate  of  Death/  was  that  she  would  meet  her  Lord  and 
Master  face  to  face !  That  was  the  grand  expectation 
which  thrilled  her  whole  being,  which  drew  from  her  an 
'almost  shout'  of  joy,  even  in  extreme  weakness, — the 
prospect  of  seeing  Him,  'Whom,  not  having  seen,'  she  loved. 

So  intense  was  the  joy  that  it  had  a  remarkable  result. 
It  appeared  to  take  the  same  effect  as  a  powerful  stimulant 
upon  her  sinking  strength.  The  very  delight  which  she 
had  in  dying  brought  her  back  to  life ;  the  very  rapture 
with  which  she  desired  to  go  kept  her  from  going. 

It  is  not  needful  to  suppose  that  this  alone  saved  her 
life.  Skilled  physicians  and  devoted  nurses  had  done  and 
were  doing  their  utmost ;  and  a  fresh  remedy  was  being 
tried,  which  brought  down  the  very  high  fever.  But  the 
fact  remains  the  same,  that,  until  Charlotte  Tucker  was 
told  that  she  would  die,  hopes  of  her  recovery  had  been 
given  up,  at  all  events  by  those  best  qualified  to  judge ; 
and  that,  from  the  time  when  she  learned  the  verdict  of  the 
doctors,  she  began  to  revive.  At  the  least  we  must  allow 
that  the  stimulant  afforded  by  this  eager  rejoicing  was  a 
marked  assistance  to  other  remedies  ;  and  that,  without  it, 
in  all  probability  she  might  have  sunk. 

Nor  need  it  be  imagined  that  she  was  immediately  out 
of  danger.  Improvement  was  very  gradual,  and  anxiety 
lasted  long.  Weeks  later  she  spoke  of  her  own  life  as 
having  been  on  Christmas  Day  still  'trembling  in  the 
balance,'  and  this  was  nearly  a  week  before  Christmas. 
But  hope  had  revived,  and  every  day  it  grew  stronger. 

Having  once  made  up  her  mind  that  she  was  to  die,  it 
was,  we  may  be  sure,  no  easy  matter  for  Charlotte  Tucker 
to  turn  her  mind  earthward  again.  '  She  dwelt  on  the 
thought  continually,'  wrote  one  of  her  nurses  afterwards  ; 
and  another  friend  said  in  a  letter  home,  at  the  time, 
'  She  is  deaf  to  any  suggestion  of  possible  recovery.' 

Full  directions  were   given  as   to  presents  which  she 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  403 

wished  to  have  sent  to  relatives  and  friends  after  her 
departure ;  and  many  messages  also,  expressive  of  intense 
delight  in  the  prospect  which  she  believed  to  lie  before  her. 
She  was  very  particular  as  to  her  funeral.  '  I  wish  no  one 
to  wear  black  for  me/  she  said.  *  My  funeral  must  not 
cost  more  than  five  rupees.  No  coffin  ;  only  a  plank  to 
keep  the  body  straight.  You  must  make  a  recess  in  the 
grave,  so  that  the  earth  may  not  fall  on  my  face.  No  one 
must  carry  me  but  my  dear  Christian  boys.' 

Then  she  would  believe  herself  to  be  in  a  Zenana  once 
more,  and  she  was  giving  a  farewell  address  in  Hindustani 
to  all  her  Bibis.  In  the  midst  of  such  a  serious  exhorta- 
tion would  come  in  quotations  from  Shakespeare,  or  odd 
little  remarks  about  her  food,  making  it  impossible  for 
others  not  to  smile,  as  the  active  mind  passed  rapidly 
from  one  subject  to  another.  But  still  her  radiant  ex- 
pectation and  rejoicing  never  faltered. 

*  What  a  happy  thing  it  is  to  have  conquered  ! '  she  said 
once, — '  and  to  know  that  I  have  a  crown  of  glory  awaiting 
me  above !  What  happiness !  But  I  know  I  have  no 
righteousness  of  my  own.  No  one  has  that !  My  trust  is 
in  the  Blood  of  Christ  alone  \  "  The  Blood  of  Jesus  Christ 
cleanseth  us  from  all  sin." ' 

Repeatedly  she  remarked  how  '  happy  she  was,  dying  in 
harness, — just  as  she  had  wished  ! '  And  again  :  '  I  want 
to  go.  You  must  not  pray  for  my  recovery.  The  Doctor 
says  I  'm  worse,  doesn't  he  ? '  And  again  :  '  If  the  Ladies  of 
the  Committee  knew  what  a  wreck  I  am,  they  would  be  glad 
that  I  am  going  now.  I  cannot  do  any  more  work  ;  but 
tell  them  that  I  depart  in  the  full,  glad  hope  of  Eternal 
Life,  through  Jesus  Christ  only !  His  precious  Blood 
only !  .  .  .  "  Nothing  in  my  hand  I  bring ;  simply  to  Thy 
Cross  I  cling ! "...  I  am  almost  surprised  at  my  ever 
coming  out  to  be  a  Missionary.  I  was  so  very  ignorant ! 
A  Missionary  needs  very  great  humility.' 


404  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

At  another  time  she  asked  :  '  How  long  is  it  likely  to 
last  ?  My  sister  will  be  quite  happy  about  me,  now  that  I 
have  completed  my  tenth  year  of  Missionary  service.' 

But  near  as  Charlotte  Tucker  drew  to  the  Gate  of 
Death,  which  to  her  was  the  Gate  of  Life,  she  was  only 
allowed  one  glimpse  inside ;  and  then  she  had  to  turn 
back  into  the  wilderness  of  Earth  once  more.  It  makes 
one  think  of  the  Pandit's  dream  beside  his  dying  wife.  A 
*  voice '  might  well  have  said,  with  angelic  pity,  of  Charlotte 
Tucker,  '  She  longs  so  to  come  !  I  will  take  her  ! '  But 
if  so,  it  would  seem  that  the  Divine  Voice  softly  interposed, 
'  WAIT  ! '  Her  hour  of  Rest  was  not  yet  reached.  She 
was  not  very  much  more  than  half-way  through  her  toil- 
some Indian  campaign.  Ten  years  of  work  lay  behind. 
Eight  years  of  work  stretched  ahead.  This  was  but  the 
Rehearsal  of  the  real  Home-going. 

By  Saturday  morning  there  was  so  far  a  distinct  im- 
provement that  Mr.  Clark  felt  himself  able  to  return 
to  Amritsar.  Miss  Tucker  still  counted  herself  dying ; 
and  her  last  words  to  Mr.  Clark  were,  '  Give  to  our  dear 
and  honoured  Bishop  my  affectionate  adieux ! ' 

When  Christmas  Day  arrived,  though  not  yet  out  of 
danger,  she  was  allowed  to  see  all  her  Batala  friends  who 
could  come,  including  the  boys  of  the  School, — no  doubt 
a  mere  passing  glimpse  of  each.  Much  warm  interest  had 
been  shown  by  the  people  of  the  city,  as  well  as  by  the 
Christians  who  so  well  knew  and  loved  her.  Before 
Christmas  Day,  however.  Miss  Tucker  seems  to  have 
accepted  the  fact  that,  so  far  as  could  be  seen,  she  had 
not  yet  fought  out  her  battle,  had  not  yet  to  exchange 
Cross  for  Crown.  So  early  as  the  2ist  of  December 
Miss  Wauton  wrote  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  : — 

*I  don't  think  she  will  ever  attempt  so  much  active  work  again 
amongst  the  people ;  but  she  said  to  me  this  morning,  "  Though  I 
shall  probably  not  be  able  to  do  much  amongst  them,  I  can  still  love 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  405 

them  ! "  Darling  Auntie  !  how  every  one  does  love  and  honour  her  ! 
This  week  has  shown  more  than  ever  how  she  lives  in  the  hearts  of 
those  for  whom  she  is  spending  her  life ;  and  how  dear  she  is  to  a 
very,  very  wide  circle  of  friends,  as  well  as  to  her  relations.  The 
boys  have  been  as  quiet  as  mice  all  the  time  she  was  ill ;  and  the  only 
sounds  that  reached  her  room  were  their  voices  practising  the  Christ- 
mas hymns,  which  she  was  delighted  with,  and  fancied  she  heard 
them  nearly  all  through  the  night,  long  after  they  were  all  in  bed.' 

On  December  28th  Charlotte  Tucker  was  able  to  dic- 
tate a  letter  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  : — 

'  My  precious  Laura, — I  have  been  in  deep  waters,  but  I  rather 
think  I  shall  swim.     I  cannot  tell  you  what  I  owe  to  the  splendid 

nursing  of and .   You  couldn't  have  nursed  me  more  devotedly 

and  tenderly  yourself     Neither  you  nor  I  will  ever  forget  it.  .  .  . 

*  I  've  a  noise  going  on  for  ever  in  my  ears  ;  but  my  mind  has  been 
clear  all  through.  The  hard  thing  was  not  to  be  able  to  pray  for 
what  I  wished.  I  should  so  have  liked  to  depart  and  be  with  Jesus  ; 
but  it  didn't  seem  God's  Will ;  and  His  Will  must  be  best.  I  tried 
to  ask  for  patience  and  resignation.     Good-bye,  darling.  .  .  .' 

Loving  messages  to  many  friends  are  included  in  this 
letter ;  and  she  also  mentions  having  received  on  Christ- 
mas Day  '  Communion  for  the  Dying,' — though  apparently 
she  was  then  not  really  counted  to  be  dying.  How- 
ever, unless  she  misunderstood  her  doctor,  he  was  not 
even  then  hopeful  to  any  great  extent.  Probably  her 
own  recollections  were  a  good  deal  more  confused  than 
she  was  at  all  aware  of. 

It  is  not  a  little  remarkable  that,  after  all  this,  she 
should  in  letters  written  somewhat  later  quietly  and 
decidedly  assert  that  she  had  not  reckoned  herself  to  be 
dying,  but  had  fully  expected  to  get  well !  The  explana- 
tion is,  most  likely,  that  her  strong  desire  to  pass  away 
was  so  dominant  a  feeling  as  to  entirely  push  into  the 
background  a  consciousness  that  she  would  recover.  At 
the  time  she  doubtless  refused  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  this 
consciousness ;  but  afterwards  it  would  naturally  recur  to 
memory, — possibly  in  a  somewhat  exaggerated  form. 


4o6  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

As  soon  as  she  was  sufficiently  improved  for  the  move 
to  be  practicable,  she  was  taken  to  Amritsar, — being  lifted 
into  her  duli,  which  travelled  by  train,  so  that  she  was 
spared  any  further  changes.  At  Amritsar  she  was  within 
easy  reach  of  her  Doctor ;  also  she  could  be  better  nursed 
and  cared  for  there  than  in  such  an  out-of-the-way  place 
as  Batala,  where  personal  comforts  were  few.  Letters 
early  in  1886  naturally  contain  a  good  deal  about  her 
illness. 

'  Batala,  Jan.  2. — My  darling  Laura,  the  last  time  the  Doctor 
came,  I  said  to  him,  "Doctor,  you're  winning  the  game  of  chess." 
He  said,  "  You  've  been  as  bad  as  you  could  be  ;  but,  under  God,  you 
owe  your  life  to  the  excellent  nursing."  .  .  .  My  sweet  ladies  watch 
me  day  and  night,  and  seem  to  think  it  fun.  ...  I  think  in  England 
we  add  to  the  miseries  of  sickness  by  looking  so  anxious  and  grave. 
Then,  another  thing,  love,  is  this  ;  don't  shut  out  friends,  for  fear 
they  should  tire  the  patient.  On  Christmas  Day,  when  my  life  was 
literally  trembling  in  the  balance,  I  must  have  seen  more  than  a 
hundred,  and  they  didn't  do  me  a  bit  of  harm.  .  .  .  Good-bye,  darling. 
Please  give  all  sorts  of  kind  messages  to  dear  Leila  and  your  other 
dear  ones,  and  every  one  who  loves  me.  .  .  . 

'  Please  pray  for  patience.  That  is  the  lesson  I  have  to  learn. 
"  Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God."  "  O  rest  in  the  Lord,  and  wait 
patiently  for  Him."  I  mustn't  think  even  much  about  Heaven  !  I 
mustn't  be  like  a  soldier  pining  to  get  home,  when  he's  told  to  keep 
quiet  in  the  trenches.' 

It  is  impossible  not  to  remember  Archbishop  Trench's 
couplet : — 

'  Some  are  resigned  to  go  ;  might  we  such  grace  attain. 
That  we  should  need  our  resignation  to  remain  ! ' 

'  Amritsar, /(2;?.  1 1,  1886.— I  hope  that  my  telegram  arrived  before 
the  news  that  would  trouble  you.  The  doctor  pronounced  me  "  out 
of  danger"  last  Friday,  the  8th  ;  so  I  almost  immediately  thought  of 
sending  a  telegram.  Now  I  'm  going  to  make  a  little  confession  of  ex- 
aggeration. I  told  you  that  I  saw  more  than  one  hundred  people  on 
Christmas  Day.  Babu  Singha  told  me  that  there  were  only  eighty-four 
at  the  feast ;  so,  as  babies  count  at  the  feast  and  didn't  come  up  to  me. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  407 

I  probably  didn't  see  more  than  seventy.  I  questioned  the  doctor  a 
little  time  ago  as  to  the  influx  of  visitors  ;  and  he  only  told  me,  that, 
as  he  thought  I  was  sure  to  die,  it  didn't  matter  whom  I  saw.  But  / 
didn't  think  I  was  going  to  die  ;  and  you  see  I  was  right.  .  .  .' 

'Amritsar,  Jan.  18. — Thanks  were  publicly  returned  in  Amritsar 
Church  yesterday  for  the  recovery  of  your  Char.  "  Bless  the  Lord, 
O  my  soul;  forget  not  all  His  benefits."  ...  I  am  floating  in  a  sea  of 
delight,  and  shall  certainly  look  back  to  this  time  of  terrible  illness  as 
one  of  the  happiest  periods  of  my  life.  I  am  as  happy  as  a  Queen. 
A  great  deal  happier  than  the  Queen  !  One  of  the  images  that  most 
frequently  rises  before  my  mind,  in  prayerful  thought,  is  that  of  our 
own  beloved  Queen.  There  is  something  so  grand  and  pathetic  in 
that  image,  as  our  Sovereign  Lady  sits  with  her  hand  on  the  helm, 
solitary  at  her  post  of  duty,  with  a  revolutionary  storm  howling  and 
shrieking  around  her.  The  Lord  shield  her  head  ;  strengthen  her 
hands  ;  give  her  increasing  grace  and  wisdom  ;  and  grant  her  the 
victory  over  all  her  enemies. 

'  I  think  it  would  gratify  Her  Majesty  were  she  to  know  her 
personal  influence  amongst  the  Women  of  India.  In  zenana  or  mud- 
village,  "Malika  Muazima  Kaiser-i-Hind" — I  generally  give  our 
Sovereign  her  full  title  among  the  Orientals,  though  I  love  "  our  own 
dear  Queen  "  much  better  ! — is  an  object  of  interest.  ...  Of  course, 
we  inculcate  loyalty  among  our  Native  Christians,  in  our  Boarding 
School  at  Batala.  One  of  the  first  things  that  would  strike  the  eye  of  a 
visitor  is  "  God  save  the  Queen," — hung  up  in  the  schoolroom.  .  .  . 
It  would  please  Her  Majesty,  could  she  hear  our  Christian  boys 
singing  : 

'  ' '  Let  the  world  know, 
Be  it  friend  or  foe, 
We  '11  be  true  to  our  Faith  and  our  Queen  !  " 

The  Hindus  and  Muhammadans  might  fail  us  should  a  storm  arise  ; 
the  Atheists  would  be  our  bitter  foes.  I  believe  that  many  of  our 
noble  Christians  would  be  Faithful  unto  Death.  .  .  . 

'  I  have  had  two  such  extraordinary  attacks  of  malarious  fever.  .  .  . 
For  three  days  and  nights,  and  more,  I  never  slept  for  a  moment. 
My  mind  was  sometimes  carried,  at  other  times  goaded,  in  unnatural 
activity.  I  had  a  torrent  of  thought,  which  I  could  not  stop ;  the 
first  week  is  to  me  almost  a  blank.  .  .  .  Dr.  P.  knew  nothing  of  me, 
nor  what  a  comically  allegorical  mind  I  have.  I  remember  nothing 
of  our  interview,  but  it  must  have  been  inexpressibly  funny.  .  .  .' 


4o8  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Letters  thus  far  were  only  dictated.  On  January  20  is 
one  in  her  own  handwriting,  very  feeble  and  shaky : — 

' .  .  .  One  does  learn  such  lessons,  when  lying  still  for  weeks  and 
weeks,  with  nothing  to  do  but  think.  For  instance,  I  remember 
grievous  sins  of  omission,  which  I  have  never  thought  of  before.  .  .  . 
The  duty  of  Intercessory  prayer  opens  out  before  me.  Of  course,  I 
have  always  prayed  for  you,  love,  and  a  great  many  more  ;  no  danger 
of  forgetting.     But  I  have  forgotten  numbers.' 

In  a  circular  letter  to  English  friends,  dated  January  25, 
she  again  and  more  emphatically  asserts  her  own  non- 
expectation  of  death  during  the  late  illness :  '  On  the 
worst  day  I  talked  Urdu,  nothing  else,  from  morning  till 
night,  to  imaginary  bibis.  Almost  every  one  thought  me 
dying,  except  myself !  ...  I  asked  the  dear,  kind,  skilful 
doctor  of  my  state ;  he  did  not  know  what  to  say,  for  he 
thought  me  sinking.  I  asked  dear  Mr.  Weitbrecht,  and  he 
pointed  his  finger  straight  downwards.  I  quite  understood, 
but  did  not  believe  myself  dying  for  all  that ! '  This  cer- 
tainly was  not  the  impression  of  those  around  her  at  the 
time,  nor  is  it  borne  out  by  the  things  she  said.  No  doubt 
she  was  striving  to  believe  what  she  longed  for, — was 
hoping  that  the  doctors'  opinion,  and  not  her  own  inner 
sense,  might  prove  to  be  right. 

Miss  Tucker's  '  horror  of  alcohol '  is  particularly  noted 
by  Mr.  Clark,  When  getting  better,  she  one  day  re- 
marked to  him,  *  What  a  dear,  good  doctor  Dr.  Clark  is  ! 
He  has  brought  me  through  it  all,  without  giving  me  any 
spirits.'  Then,  turning  to  one  of  her  nurses,  '  Isn't  it  so, 
dear?'  A  judicious  answer  was  returned:  'The  doctor 
gave  you  just  the  right  medicine,  and  you  were  very  good 
in  taking  it.'  A  little  later,  when  having  another  dose  of 
medicine,  she  said  again,  '  Are  you  sure  there  is  no 
alcohol  in  it  ? '  *  It  is  what  the  doctor  has  ordered  for  you. 
Auntie  dear.  You  must  just  take  it,  and  ask  no  questions.' 
As  letters  show,  it  was  not  till  February  that  she  learned 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  409 

the  true  state  of  the  case,  which  was  that  she  had  been 
kept  alive  by  small  doses  of  stimulant  every  hour.  The 
strongest  brandy  had  tasted  to  her  like  water.  As  soon  as 
Miss  Tucker  understood  how  matters  had  been,  she  wrote 
to  her  sister,  to  say  : — 

'  I  made  a  great  mistake  in  my  letters  home.  If  from  them  you 
have  given  to  others  a  wrong  impression,  please  kindly  correct  it 
when  opportunity  occurs.  I  wrote  that  I  had  had  no  stimulant  in  my 
illness.  I  thought  that  I  had  not ;  but  I  find  that  I  was  utterly 
wrong.  I  was  kept  from  sinking,  not  only  by  quantities  of  quinine, 
but  brandy  also.  It  was  strange  that  I  should  not  have  recognised 
it ;  but  it  was  always  mixed  with  something  else.' 

So  steady  now  was  the  improvement  in  her  health,  that 
before  the  middle  of  February  she  was  able  to  get  out  for 
drives ;  on  the  14th  she  went  to  Church ;  and  by  the  i8th 
she  was  back  again  in  'dear  Batala,' — not  at  the  old 
palace,  but  in  the  Mission  Bungalow,  '  Sonnenschein,'  with 
Miss  Hoernle.  A  crowd  of  boys  welcomed  her  at  the 
Railway  Station,  on  her  arrival ;  and  next  day  a  grand 
Batala  feast  was  given  in  her  honour. 


CHAPTER    XV 

A.D.  1886-1887 

IN    HARNESS  ONCE   MORE 

So  severe  an  illness  could  not  fail  to  leave  traces  ;  and 
Charlotte  Tucker  came  out  of  it  more  distinctly  an  old 
lady  than  she  had  ever  been  before.  Ten  years  of  per- 
petual toil  had  used  up  a  large  amount  of  even  her 
superabundant  vitality ;  and  she  could  not  expect  to  be 
again  fully  what  she  had  been,  either  as  to  vigour  or 
powers  of  endurance. 

But  although  strength  did  not  return,  quickly,  and  work 
had  to  be  very  slowly  resumed,  her  interest  in  all  that 
concerned  Batala  was  as  vivid  as  ever.  The  letters  of 
1886  are  full  of  details  about  various  High  School  boys, — 
either  those  who  had  been  or  those  who  still  were  scholars 
Letters  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  were  as  long  as  ever, — longer 
indeed  than  in  times  of  greater  work-pressure, — and  the 
shaky  hand  soon  regained  its  firmness. 

Immediately  after  her  return  to  Batala,  she  wrote  as  to 
work  generally : — 

'  O,  there  have  been  such  stirring  times  in  our  Panjab  Mission 
field  lately  !  On  one  side,  or  rather  various  sides,  the  poor,  low- 
caste  people  are  joyfully  receiving  the  Gospel.  One  hears  of  them 
listening,  with  tears  running  down  their  brown  cheeks.  Dear  Miss 
Hoernle,  my  chum,  is  off  to  Futteyghur,  with  a  new  Bible-woman 
specially  for  the  poor  peasants.  There,  after  dtte  examination^  Mr. 
Weitbrecht  has  baptized  whole  families, — fifty-six  individuals, — and 
I  shall  probably  hear  of  many  more  when  Miss  Hoernle  returns.  .  .  . 

410 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  411 

All  this  is  comparatively  smooth,  for  people  do  not  flare  up  at  poor 
people  being  saved  ;  but  there  has  been  desperate  fighting  over  dear 
lads  of  good  family ;  prosecution,  persecution,  pelting,  lying,  hand- 
to-hand  struggling ;  even  our  chivalrous  Missionary,  Mr.  Bateman, 
always  ready  to  be  foremost  in  the  fight,  owns  that  he  has  never  had 
such  a  hard  case  as  the  last.  The  dear  Convert,  not  yet  baptized, 
refused  an  offer  of  10,000  rupees  down  and  40,000  in  reversion,  rather 
than  give  up  Christ.  .  .  .' 

Many  other  particulars,  too  long  to  quote,  follow. 

The  4th  of  March  was  to  be,  as  she  wrote,  'a  very 
great  day  here ;  the  greatest  Batala  has  ever  known ! 
Our  Church  is  to  be  consecrated ;  and  Christians  will 
gather  from  far  and  near.  One  of  the  most  interesting 
features  of  the  occasion  will  be,  I  trust,  the  presence  of 
converts.  ...  I  believe  that  many  of  them  will  gladly 
walk  fifteen  miles  to  be  present.  One  said,  in  regard  to 
their  dress,  which  is,  as  you  may  suppose,  of  a  very  rough 
kind,  "  We  will  come  in  clean  clothes,  if  it  take  us  four 
days  to  wash  them ! " '  The  last  few  words  were  in 
allusion  to  very  poor  village  converts. 

A  letter  to  a  little  great-nephew,  the  day  after  the 
Consecration,  gave  some  particulars  : — 

'We  had  a  very  grand  day  in  Batala  yesterday.  The  Bishop 
came  to  open  our  fine  new  Church.  A  great  many  ladies  and 
gentlemen  came  also.  There  were  two  meat  meals  for  them  ;  we  sat 
down  about  thirty-four.  But  one  of  the  most  interesting  things  was 
that  a  good  many  poor  men  and  boys,  whom  dear  Mr.  Weitbrecht 
had  baptized  in  the  villages,  came  too.  Now,  some  people  are 
proud  enough  to  scorn  these  poor  men,  because  they  are  of  the  low 

Mihtar  caste.      But,  you  know,  my  T ,  that  there  is  plenty  of 

room  in  Heaven  for  Mihtars ;  and  when  they  shine  in  white 
garments  and  crowns  no  one  will  despise  them  then.  We  thought 
that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  eat  a  little  with  the  poor  men,  to 
show  that  we  do  not  scorn  them.  .  .  .  Mr.  Bateman,  Mrs.  Weitbrecht, 
and  I  sat  down  on  the  straw,  where  the  poor  folk  were  eating  their 
dinner,  and  ate  some  too.  I  own  that  I  did  not  eat  much, — I  had 
had  the  two  meat  meals  already  !  .  .  . 

'  Our  Church  looked  very  nice.     We  had  to  lend  three  mats  for  it ; 


412  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

and  other  things  were  lent  also.  .  .  .  But  three  beautiful  cushions 
were  not  lent.  Dear  Aunt  Mina,  her  Wilhelmina,  and  Cousin  Laura 
worked  them  years  ago  for  our  Church.  We  took  great  care  of 
them,  and  they  look  in  fine  condition.' 

The  Church  of  the  Epiphany  at  Batala,  consecrated 
on  March  4,  1886,  by  the  Bishop  of  Lahore,  is  described  as 
being  'of  brick,  plastered  with  lime.  The  style  chosen 
is  that  of  the  Mogul  period,  adapted  to  the  requirements 
of  a  Christian  Church.  The  Church  at  present  consists  of 
a  nave,  with  clerestory  windows,  chancel,  and  porch.  Two 
side-aisles  remain  to  be  added.  The  present  accommoda- 
tion is  200 ;  when  completed  it  will  be  about  500.  The 
Church  is  situated  near  the  chief  gate  of  Batala,  on  the 
road  leading  to  the  railway.' 

Then  came  the  parting  with  the  Weitbrechts ;  a  sor- 
rowful matter,  after  two  years  together  under  the  same 
roof.  Miss  Tucker,  though  still  far  from  strong,  was 
sufficiently  recovered  to  travel  with  them  as  far  as  to 
Delhi,  where  she  paid  a  short  visit  to  a  widowed  niece. 
While  there,  on  March  18,  she  wrote  : — 

'  Here  am  I,  in  the  famous  old  city  of  Delhi,  long  the  capital  of 
India ;  but  I  go  about  to  see  none  of  its  many  sights.  .  .  .  The 
dear  Weitbrechts  and  I  lunched  with  the  Cambridge  Mission 
yesterday.  A  fine  set  of  Missionaries,  whom  one  is  glad  to  have 
met.  I  was  invited  to  dine  also,  I  fancy,  but  I  did  not  care  to  have 
my  parting  at  a  dinner-party.  I  returned  here  ;  and  dear  Herbert 
came  at  past  9  A.M.  just  to  bid  me  farewell.  It  was  very  kind  in 
him.  We  were  alone  in  the  verandah  ;  and  the  parting  was  almost 
like  that  between  son  and  mother.  .  .  . 

'  There  is  an  interesting  young  Missionary  here,  Mr.  Maitland  of 
the  S.P.G.  He  has  been  almost  at  death's  door,  and  now  appears 
much  in  the  same  state  as  I  was  in  Amritsar  six  or  seven  weeks  ago, 
coddled  and  taken  care  of.  He  wanted  me  to  come  and  take  a  cup 
of  tea  with  him,  which  I  did  most  willingly  ;  and  we  had  a  good  chat 
together.     Invalids  like  visitors,  I  think.     I  know  that  I  did.  .  .  . 

'  2ind, — O,  my  Laura,  have  you  actually  been  sending  more  money, 
to  meet  the  expenses  of  my  illness  ?  I  do  not  know  what  to  say  or 
how  to  thank  you.    You  must  indeed  stop  overwhelming  your  Char  !' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  413 

A  very  troublesome  horse,  who  broke  his  harness  and 
refused  to  be  controlled,  was  named  by  her  'Buzdil,'  or 
'  Coward.'  *  /  never  attempted  to  drive,'  she  observed  in 
an  April  letter,  'but  exhorted  him,  when  I  was  beside 
Maria ;  but  he  never  minded  what  I  said.'  Then  came 
some  '  rough  lines,'  adapted  to  an  old  Scotch  air,  *  He 's  a 
terrible  man,  John  Tod,  John  Tod  ! ' 

'  He's  a  terrible  horse,  Buzdil,  Buzdil, 
He  's  a  terrible  horse,  Buzdil ! 
He  gives  start  and  skip, 
Fears  all — but  the  whip. 
And  cares  not  a  straw  for  our  will ! 

'  He 's  broken  his  harness,  Buzdil,  Buzdil, 
He's  broken  his  harness,  Buzdil ! 
He  'd  plunge  in  a  hedge, 
Or  back  on  a  ledge, 
But  when  urged  to  go  on — he  stood  still ! 

'  He  puzzles  his  syce,  Buzdil,  Buzdil, 
He  worries  his  syce,  Buzdil ! 
If  you  take  my  advice, 
He  '11  be  sold  in  a  trice. 
Ere  our  poor  Mission  ladies  he  kill ! ' 

Miss  Tucker  planned  starting  '  a  very  sober,  safe  kind  of 
vehicle '  to  carry  to  Church  those  who  could  not  or  might 
not  walk  so  far,  even  in  cold  weather.  It  was  to  be  a 
cart,  with  a  cover  to  ward  off  the  heat  of  the  sun,  and 
was  to  be  drawn  by  bullocks, —a  humble  conveyance, 
which  fact  was  no  trouble  at  all  to  the  mind  of  Charlotte 
Tucker.  The  more  humble,  the  better  fitted  in  her  esti- 
mation for  a  Mission  Miss  Sahiba ! 

In  June  she  went  for  a  complete  change  to  Murree,  and 
was  soon  able,  while  there,  to  speak  of  herself  as  being 
decidedly  stronger, '  able  without  injury  to  walk  twice  to 
Church  and  back,'  despite  a  tough  hill  on  the  way. 


414  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

One  friend,  Mrs.  Rowland  Bateman,  meeting  her  at  this 
time,  wrote  afterwards  : — 

'  It  was  so  very  delightful  to  see  her  dear  face  again,  and  so  nice 
to  get  her  warm  and  loving  welcome.  You  know  what  "pretty" 
things  she  says ;  so  on  this  occasion  she  said,  "  I  came  (to  the 
station)  for  silver,  and  I  found  gold  ! "  Very  pretty,  was  it  not  ? 
And  now  let  me  tell  how  I  thought  her  looking.  It  is  five  years 
since  I  saw  her  ;  so  of  course  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  change.  She  is 
looking  very  much  older  ;  but  she  is  as  bright  as  ever,  cracking 
jokes,  and  making  us  all  laugh.  Then  of  course,  since  her  illness, 
she  is  very  thin,  and  that  makes  her  face  look  older  than  she  would 
do,  were  she  a  little  stouter.  And  she  eats  more  than  she  used  to 
do.  Five  years  ago  she  hardly  ate  enough  to  keep  a  sparrow  alive. 
.  .  .  Another  thing  I  was  very  glad  of,  and  that  was  that  she  does 
not  attempt  to  do  so  much.     She  gives  herself  time  to  rest.' 

In  July  Miss  Tucker  welcomed  with  eager  pleasure  a 
present  from  her  sister  of  an  'excellent  likeness'  of  the 
Queen.  Charlotte  Tucker's  love  for  Her  Majesty  went 
far  beyond  ordinary  loyalty.  It  was  more  of  the  nature 
of  a  personal  romantic  passion. 

By  the  middle  of  August  she  was  at  work  again. 
Mr.  Weitbrecht  was  now  gone,  and  Mr.  Corfield  had  been 
seriously  ill ;  so  once  more  the  School  was  for  some  time 
without  a  Principal  on  the  spot.  Many  of  the  boys  did 
not  return  to  their  homes  for  the  holidays ;  indeed,  some 
young  converts  literally  had  no  homes  to  go  to.  A.  L.  O.  E. 
therefore  exercised  her  powers  to  find  interests  and 
amusements  for  them.  About  this  time  also  she  started 
Shakespeare  readings  in  Batala,  of  which  she  says  : — 

^  Aug.  II. — Perhaps  I  told  you  that  I  had  begun  Shakespeare 
readings.  I  had  five  readings  of  Henry  viil.,  with  fair  success  ;  so 
I  thought  that  I  would  begin  Macbeth^  which  I  think  the  most 
striking  of  all  Shakespeare's  dramas.  But  it  was  a  dead  failure 
here  !  The  Natives  could  not  understand  it ;  and  those  who  came 
to  the  first  reading  were  non  inventus  at  the — what  would  have  been 
the  second  reading.  So  I  have  changed  my  book,  and  intend  to-day 
to  begin  to  read  aloud  my  Laura's  capital  present,  the  particularly 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  415 

amusing  Life  of  Buckland.     Fish  instead  of  furies  ! — salmon  instead 
of  slaughter ! ' 

From  many  letters  it  may  be  seen  that  she  was  soon  in 
a  steady  swing  again,  both  with  Zenana  and  with  Village 
visiting ;  but  the  amount  attempted  seems  to  have  been 
more  moderate  than  formerly.  Few  quotations  must 
suffice : — 

''Oct.  15,  1886. — Now  I  will  tell  you  about  a  visit  which  I  paid 
yesterday  to  a  Zenana,  where  the  Bibi  used  to  be  very  bigoted. 
Yesterday  I  came  on  her  husband,  a  grave,  middle-aged  man.  So 
he  heard  what  I  had  to  say.  Then  he  asked  me  to  give  him  a 
picture  of  Christ.  Very  strict  Muhammadans  object  to  pictures  ; 
but  he  wanted  one  of  the  Saviour.  I,  as  a  rule,  never  give  pictures, 
though  I  show  them  ;  but  I  happened  to  have  three  small  pictures, 
cut  out  from  periodicals, — not  coloured, — and  I  felt  impelled  to  grant 
the  grave  man's  request.  I  let  him  choose.  He  took  the  copy  of 
the  famous  picture — is  it  not  Leonardo  da  Vinci's  ? — of  the  Blessed 
One,  crowned  with  thorns,  and  put  it  carefully  by  in  a  paper.  Will 
that  suffering,  pathetic  Face  speak  to  the  Muhammadan's  heart? 
N.  is  no  unlearned  man.  He  told  me  that  he  had  been  our 
K.  B.'s  teacher.  "Were  you  angry  with  K.  B.  ?"  I  asked,— meaning 
for  becoming  a  Christian  !  The  grave  man  quietly  repHed  in  the 
negative.' 

'■Nov.  6. — I  have  lately  been  paying  more  attention  to  children 
in  the  Zenanas,— partly  perhaps  because  they  seem  to  pay  more 
attention  to  what  I  say.  When  they  listen  in  perfect  stillness,  one 
cannot  but  hope  that  the  young  hearts  are  receiving  some  seed  of 
life.  I  had  very  quiet,  attentive  little  listeners  in  a  Zenana  yesterday. 
When  I  went  to  another,  some  of  the  children  followed  me,  but  the 
bibi  forbade  them  to  come  in.  In  vain  I  pleaded  that  they  did  not 
make  the  least  noise  ;  she  bade  them  go  and  play,  But  after  I  had 
read  to  that  woman,  and  proceeded  to  another  house,  children 
came  after  me,  I  think  two  or  three  of  the  same  ones.  That  little 
book,  with  gaily-coloured  pictures,  about  little  Daisy,  which  you  sent 
me,  is  invaluable.  .  .  .' 

Miss  Krapf  in  her  turn  had  had  a  serious  breakdown  ; 
and  she  did  not  return  to  Batala.  In  her  place,  towards 
the  end  of  the  year,  came  Miss  Minnie  Dixie,  who  was  to 
be  Miss  Tucker's  constant  companion  and  fellow-inmate 


4i6  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

of  the  Mission  Bungalow  for  seven  years  or  more.  By 
the  time  Miss  Dixie  arrived,  as  '  Sonnenschein  '  was  made 
only  to  take  in  two  ladies,  and  Miss  Hoernle  was  still 
there,  Miss  Tucker  had  doubtless  moved  into  her  own 
little  annexe, — the  new  west  wing  of  the  Bungalow,  which 
she  had  prettily  named  '  Sunset ! ' 

A  ground-plan  of  the  Bungalow  gives  a  good  idea  of  this 
latest  earthly  home  of  Charlotte  Tucker.  One  large  room 
was  divided  by  screens  into  bedroom  and  sitting-room. 
In  front  and  behind  were  verandahs ;  while  one  side  was 
joined  to  '  Sonnenschein,'  and  on  the  other  lay  dressing- 
room  and  bathroom.  Miss  Tucker  lived  in  her  own  tiny 
'Sunset,'  but  she  took  her  meals  with  the  other  ladies  in 
*  Sunshine,'  and  their  evenings  were  often,  if  not  regularly, 
spent  together.  '  We  are  a  happy  little  band  of  Europeans 
at  Batala,'  she  wrote  in  the  November  of  1886. 

The  year  closed  with  a  characteristic  little  episode,  by 
which  it  might  be  seen  that  the  old  energy  and  impetuosity 
were  by  no  means  snuffed  out  of  existence.  A  young 
lady,  not  of  the  Batala  party,  was   going   to  a  certain 

doctor  at ,  of  whose  skill  Miss  Tucker  was  more  than 

dubious.  She  had,  as  we  have  seen,  no  very  flattering 
opinion  of  the  medical  faculty  in  general ;  always  with 
charming  exceptions,  where  personal  intercourse  inter- 
fered with  theories.  On  the  present  occasion  it  was  not 
a  man  but '  a  dreadful  woman  doctor '  in  the  case.  On 
learning  that  all  was  arranged.  Miss  Tucker  exclaimed, 
'  You  shall  not  go  alone,  dear.  I  will  go  with  you.'  And 
go  she  did ;  regardless  of  age,  of  weakness,  of  cold 
weather,  of  long  journeying. 

Nor  was  this  all !     On  reaching ,  Miss  Tucker  was 

so  utterly  dissatisfied  with  the  apparent  state  of  things, 
that  she  flatly  refused  to  give  up  the  patient  to  the  doctor. 
After  what  she  describes  as  '  a  fight, — will  against  will ! ' 
she  fairly  carried  off  her  charge  to  the  house  of  a  friend 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  417 

in  the  place ;  and  next  day  ran  away  with  her,  by  train, 
to  a  distant  town.  The  patient  happily  fell  thereafter 
into  kind  and  skilful  hands ;  and  Charlotte  Tucker  con- 
gratulated herself  upon  her  own  prompt  and  decisive 
action.  Whether  or  no  her  fears  were  well  founded,  one 
cannot  but  admire  her  self-sacrificing  readiness  to  endure 
any  amount  of  worry,  fatigue,  and  responsibility  on  behalf 
of  another.  The  last  thing  Charlotte  Tucker  ever  did 
was  '  to  pass  by  on  the  other  side,'  when  a  human  being 
was  in  need  of  help.  She  never  dreamt  of  sparing  herself. 
Many  letters  this  year  bear  reference  to  the  different 
pretty  and  useful  articles  sent  out  by  friends  and  working- 
parties  for  sale  or  for  gifts.  With  respect  to  those  for 
sale,  she  did  indeed  exclaim  in  one  letter  :  '  I  wish  dear 
kind  friends  would  sell  the  things  themselves,  and  simply 
give  us  the  money !  They  do  not  think  of  the  added 
difficulty  of  insects  and  climate  !  I  fear  that  a  good 
many  things  get  spoiled.'  This  however  was  not  the 
usual  strain  in  which  she  acknowledged  such  parcels. 
Here  are  a  few  specimen  sentences,  culled  from  letters  of 
different  dates,  to  Miss  Longley : — 

*  I  received  your  kind  letter  to-day,  and  do  not  delay  thanking  you 
heartily  for  the  account  of  what  the  dear  Warwickshire  children  are 
doing  for  the  Mission  cause.  .  .  .  The  dolls  are  capital  gifts  to  send. 
Our  little  Fatimas  and  Barakats,  etc.,  like  them  so  much.' 

*  Your  very  nice  box  of  attractive  dolls,  those  that  can  open  and 
shut  their  eyes,  and  a  number  of  prettily-dressed  sisters  clustering 
together  like  birdies  in  a  nest,  safely  reached  me  to-day.  .  .  .  They 
have  come  in  excellent  time,  for  our  annual  examination  has  been 
delayed.  .  .  .  How  pleased  our  little  Panjabi  maidens  will  be  with 
their  dolls, — even  blind  girls  would  be  charmed,  I  think  !  The  clever 
dolls  that  can  open  and  shut  their  eyes  ought  to  be  very  special 
prizes.  .  .  .  Dolls  are  great  favourites  with  Native  children,  and  I  do 
not  wonder  at  this.  The  Native  toys  look  very  coarse  beside  the 
elegantly-dressed  little  ladies  from  dear  old  England.' 

'Dolls  are  much  liked  by  our  dark-eyed  little  maidens.     Not  only 
little  girls  ;  but  I  suspect  that  many  a  mother  would  be  pleased  to 
2D 


41 8  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

possess  one  of  the  quiet,  rosy-cheeked  babies  from  England,  that  never 
cry  nor  give  any  trouble.  Your  useful  work-basket  must,  I  think,  be 
presented  to  some  Native  Christian  girl  who  is  fond  of  work.  .  .  . 
Native  Christians  also  would,  I  think,  most  value  the  scrap-books 
so  kindly  prepared.  At  Christmas  we  have  a  bran-pie,  only  for 
Christians,  and  we  have  to  get  ready  about  eighty  gifts,  even  in  this 
out-of-the-way  Batala.  I  begin  my  preparations  very  early.  I 
assure  you  that  our  children  are  not  "  black."  Some  of  the  Natives 
are  quite  pretty,  and  I  think  not  darker  than  Spaniards.  I  every 
now  and  then  see  a  child  with  brown  hair,  perhaps  curly.' 

'  We  have  numbers  of  young  people  here.  It  would  amuse  some 
of  your  workers  to  hear  a  few  of  their  names  translated.  We  have 
amongst  girls,  Flower,  Beloved,  Lady  of  Light,  An  Offering,  etc., — 
amongst  boys,  Valiant,  Feet  of  Christ,  Diamond-pearl,  Welfare,  etc. 
A  nice  young  convert  has  the  pretty  name  of  "  Gift  of  the  Merciful." 
A  little  boy  is  "The  Mercy  of  God."  His  father's  name  is  "The 
Power  of  God."  Fancy  a  number  of  dark-eyed  men,  women,  and 
children,  with  these  curious  names,  assembled  around  our  bran-pie 
(it  is  really  a  bath),  and  some  of  the  pretty  presents  from  Warwick 
popping  out  to  delight  them.' 

Dolls  are  spoken  of  again  and  again,  as  if  too  many 
Gould  not  possibly  be  sent ;  but  many  other  things  are 
mentioned  also, — such  as  antimacassars,  pretty  handker- 
chiefs, boxes  of  sugar-plums,  a  nice  inkstand,  and  so  on. 
An  unlimited  amount  of  presents  for  Indian  Christians  at 
Christmas-time  was  evidently  a  pressing  need.  Articles 
for  sale  had  to  be  sent  to  Amritsar  or  elsewhere,  as  there 
was  no  demand  for  them  in  Batala. 

In  February  1887  two  little  ones  came  to  her  for  a  short 
stay  at  Batala  on  their  way  to  England, — the  tiny  grand- 
children of  her  brother,  Mr.  St.  George  Tucker.  Children 
had  always  a  great  attraction  for  her;  and  immediately 
letters  became  full  of  the  small  pair,  their  pretty  ways  and 
sayings  and  doings.  Miss  Tucker  had  to  make  arrange- 
ments for  their  journey  home.  Writing  on  March  17  to 
her  niece,  Miss  Edith  Tucker,  she  exclaims  : — 

'  O  these  children  !  they  are  such  darlings  !  Edie  will  not  be 
three  till  the  19th,  but  she  is  as  sensible  as  if  double  the  age ;  and 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  419 

seems  to  take  a  sort  of  care  of  her  brother.  She  is  such  an  honour- 
able Httle  girl  too.  Mrs.  C,  the  very  nice  matron  here,  has  been 
very  much  struck  by  this.  "  It  must  be  hereditary,"  she  said  ;  "she 
could  not  have  got  it  from  her  ayah."  ^  .  .  .  My  heart  feels  very 
tender  towards  the  loving  pets,  whom  I  shall  never  see  on  earth 
again.     God  grant  us  a  joyful  meeting  before  the  Throne  !  .  .  . 

'  I  sometimes  think  how  proud  dear  Sir  Frederick  Abbott  2  will  be 
of  his  descendants.  Please  congratulate  him  and  d^ar  Lady  Abbott 
from  me.' 

In  another  letter,  about  the  same  date,  and  also  on  the 
subject  of  the  children,  written  to  Miss  Alice  Tucker, 
A.  L.  O.  E.  speaks  of  having  been  kicked  by  a  horse  in  a 
small  Muhammadan  courtyard, — happily  not  a  severe  kick. 
The  horse  struck  out  sharply,  but  she  had  just  stepped 
back,  and  the  force  of  the  blow  was  also  broken  by  the 
umbrella  which  she  held.  She  escaped  therefore  with 
only  *  a  harmless  contusion.'  It  might  have  been  a  very 
grave  accident. 

On  March  26  comes  a  short  letter  to  Mrs.  Hamilton, 
jubilant  at  the  thought  of  a  visit  from  her  friend,  Mr. 
Francis  Baring : — 

'  To-day  my  darlings  embark  on  the  wide,  wide  ocean,  dear  little 
"  travellers  by  land  and  by  water "  !  What  sweet  blossoms  of  the 
fourth  generation  grow  on  our  honoured  Father's  family  tree  !  I  am 
sure  that  you  think  your  pet  no  exception.  .  .  . 

'  I  received  a  note  the  other  day,  which  made  my  heart  joyful :  it 
was  from  Mera  Bhatija. 

' '  He 's  coming  again  !  he 's  coming  again  ! 
Oh,  but  he's  been  long  awa", 
Far  frae  his  ain,"  etc. 

He  is  coming  all  the  way  from  M ,  for  Batala's  ninth  birthday. 

I  correct  the  boys'  letters  to-day,  and  am  pleased  at  the  tone  in 
which  they  write  regarding  his  coming. 

*R.  "Won't  it  be  a  grand  thing  to  see  our  dear  old  Principal 
again?"  R.  C.  "The  Rev.  F.  H.  Baring  will  be  here,  and  I  hope 
there  will  be  a  grand  feast,  and  racing,  jumping,  etc.  How  happy 
we  shall  be  to  see  the  father  of  our  school ! "  .  .  .  I  shall  like  to  look 

1  A  very  untruthful  woman.  2  The  father  of  Mrs.  St.  George  Tucker. 


420  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

at   dear  Babu  Singha's  face,  when  he  grasps   the  hand  of  his  old 
patron.' 

Another  letter,  April  6,  refers  to  a  slight  operation  which 
she  had  had  to  undergo,  for  continued  weakness  of  one 
eye.  '  It  needed  the  prick  of  the  lancet  and  the  entrance 
of  the  probe.  It  was  a  mere  trifle  of  an  operation  ; 
Henry  ^  is  so  gentle  and  kind,'  she  wrote  cheerily ;  then, 
later  in  the  same  letter :  '  Now  I  must  be  off  for  church. 
We  have  a  great  deal  of  church-going  in  this  Holy  Week.  I 
have  to  play  the  harmonium  to-day.  This  week  Minnie 
and  I  have  been  taking  the  privilege  alternately.' 

She  was  greatly  interested  this  year  in  a  young 
Muhammadan,  who  seemed  much  disposed  towards 
Christianity,  yet  was  never  able  to  make  up  his  mind  or 
to  act  with  decision.  He  appeared,  as  she  said  in  one 
letter,  to  have  clearly  *  two  wills, — one  desiring  Baptism,' 
the  other  drawing  him  among  the  enemies  of  Christianity. 
'  He  swings  from  good  to  evil  like  a  very  pendulum,'  she 
observed.  '  We  cannot  keep  him  from  the  Muhammadans  ; 
yet  the  Muhammadans  cannot  keep  him  from  Christ'  In 
another  May  letter  she  wrote  of  him  :  '  B.  P.  interested  me 
yesterday  by  trying  to  make  me  get  one  of  the  boys  here 
off  with  the  latter  part  of  a  punishment.  "  You  are  a  kind 
of  mother,"  said  he.  "  When  the  father  is  angry,  the  mother 
should  plead."  Natives  do  not  clearly  understand  about 
discipline  and  justice ;  even  Christian  Natives  are  apt  to 
think  that  offenders  should  be  quickly  forgiven,  however 
disastrous  the  results  might  be.  Abstract  justice  to  the 
Oriental  sometimes  looks  like  revenge.  How  often  have  I 
heard  Muhammadans  say,  "  God  Is  the  Forglver ! " — with 
this  they  put  conscience  to  rest.  But  a  good  many,  called 
Christians,  fall  into  the  dangerous  mistake  of  imagining 
the  pure  holy  God  to  be  too  loving  to  be  just.  It  is  the 
echo  of  Satan's  He,  "  Ye  shall  not  surely  die." ' 

1  Dr.  H.  M.  Clark. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  421 

In  June  came  one  of  the  heaviest  blows  of  all  her 
Missionary  career, — a  very  dark  shadow  indeed  upon  its 
brightness.  This  was  the  sudden  and  unexpected  apostasy 
of  one  who  for  years  had  belonged  to  their  little  band  of 
Christians, — one  of  the  first  Native  Christians  whom  she 
had  learnt  to  know  on  her  earliest  arrival  at  Amritsar, — 
one  whom  she  had  loved  and  trusted,  and  whom  she  had 
looked  upon  as  not  only  a  follower  of  Christ  by  profession 
but  in  very  truth.  She  felt  the  defection  of  this  man  with 
exceeding  acuteness.  He  has  been  once  or  twice  already 
referred  to  as  Z.,  or  Maulvi  Z.,  and  he  might  have 
been  referred  to  dozens  of  times.  The  first  letter  on  this 
sad  subject  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  written  while  Miss 
Tucker  was  away  from  home,  staying  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Francis  Baring. 

'•June  23,  1887. — I  am  certainly  stronger,  and  should  like  the  visit 
to  the  dear  excellent  Barings  much,  if  I  had  not  such  troubles.  From 
Batala  Mission  has  come  such  a  shock !  Fancy  Maulvi  Z.  and 
his  family  going  over  to  the  Muhammadans, — he  who  for  about 
twelve  years  had  been  such  a  well-known  member  of  the  Church, — 
she  who  for  eighteen  months  worked  as  an  Honorary  Biblewoman  ! 
Both,  with  their  nice  eldest  son,  took  the  Communion  with  me  this 
very  month  !  It  is  terrible  !  The  wretched  Maulvi  is  to  receive  40s. 
for  teaching  in  an  opposition  school,  just  set  up  to  injure  our  Mission 
School.  .  .  .  The  Muhammadans  have  had  rejoicings  and  fireworks, 
— the  enemies  of  the  Lord  will  triumph  and  blaspheme.  But  I 
believe  that  Z.  has  no  faith  in  the  false  prophet,  and  that  he  has 
loved  the  Saviour.  The  prodigal  may  come  back,  but  probably  after 
terrible  judgments,  for  he  is  sinning  against  light  and  love.  I  have 
not  the  heart  to  write  on  other  subjects.' 

^June  29,  1887. — I  propose  starting  for  Batala  early  on  Monday 
the  nth.     I  must  be  in  time  for  the  prize-givings  and  a  feast.     Mera 

Bhatija  had  a  letter  to-day  from ,  who  does  not  think  that  Z.'s 

terrible  apostasy  has  done  any  harm  to  the  Christian  cause  in  Batala. 
The  more  respectable  Muhammadans  do  not  trust  him,  and  our 
preachers  are  listened  to  as  well  as  before.  But  oh,  the  wretched 
man  himself  and  his  family  !  I  must  not  dwell  on  a  subject  which 
has  made  me  so  unhappy.' 


422  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

She  could  not,  however,  keep  from  recurring  to  it  once 
and  again,  as  darker  details  came  out.  Indignation  at 
the  conduct  of  the  apostate  was  equalled  by  her  pity  for 
the  unhappy  man  himself.  Writing  on  July  29,  still  on 
the  same  subject,  she  said :  *  He  did  harm  in  the  school 
while  teaching  here.  Some  of  the  Muhammadans 
despise  him.  A  most  sarcastic,  withering  article  has 
come  out  in  a  Muhammadan  newspaper  against  the 
apostate.' 

On  reaching  home  another  trial  assailed  her.  One  of 
her  most  trusted  servants,  mentioned  repeatedly  as  V., 
proved  to  be  utterly  dishonest,  and  had  to  be  dismissed. 
Miss  Tucker  felt  this  too  very  acutely.  '  In  all  my 
Missionary  life,'  she  wrote  on  July  16,  *  I  never  knew  such 
a  year  as  this.' 

Miss  Dixie  was  at  this  time  away,  and  two  or  thfee 
short  extracts  from  letters  to  her  may  be  given  : — 

^July  18,  1887. — Welcome,  dearest  Minnie,  home !  We  are  to 
have  a  picnic  in  celebration  of  your  return.  Please  travel  in  a  duli, 
if  the  roads  are  very  bad,  as  they  are  pretty  sure  to  be.  Tell  us  when 
and  where  to  send  for  you.  We  have  had  many  troubles  at  Batala 
since  you  left, — the  unhappy  Maulvi  not  only  apostatising  himself 
and  family,  but  slandering  his  former  friends  right  and  left.  I  have 
dismissed  V.,  and  P.  has  followed  him.  A  sight  of  your  dear  kind 
face  will  be  a  cheer  to  your  affectionate  Auntie.' 

^July  30. — What  an  adventurous  journey  my  dearest  Minnie  had  ! 
Thank  God,  dear,  that  you  are  all  safe  and  right.  ...  I  seem  always 
to  be  asking  you  to  excuse  short  letters  ;  but  the  fact  is  that  almost 
everything  is  an  effort  to  me.  I  just  manage  to  get  through  a  little 
work,  but  seem  not  to  be  able  for  much  correspondence  just  at 
present.' 

'-Aug.  10. — I  am  glad  that  you  are  well  and  happy.  You  must  not 
think  that  I  forget  you,  because  I  write  little.  It  is  rather  a  case  of 
"  duties  thronging  round,"  and  not  much  strength  to  perform  them.' 

^  Aug.  16. — We  have  had  such  floods  !  On  Sunday  there  was  no 
attempt  to  reach  the  large  Church.    There  was  Service  in  Anarkalli ; 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  423 

bui  that  was  surrounded  with  water.  Some  went  on  horseback,  some 
in  dulis.' 

One  letter  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  contains  a  brief  description 
of  her  own  work  : — 

''Aug.  31. — I  go,  you  know,  to  city  work  in  the  morning.  After 
our  late  breakfast  I  have  a  succession  of  people  coming.  For  instance, 
to-day, — 1st,  Munshi  and  four  boys.  2nd,  A  convert  came,  to  read 
the  Bible  to  me.  3rd,  A  teacher  came,  for  me  to  explain  difficult 
English  idioms.  4th,  Three  lads  for  English  lessons.  5th,  A  fourth 
lad  more  advanced.  You  see,  love,  that  this  is  not  a  sleepy  life, 
though  in  this  warm  weather  I  usually  get  some  sleep  in  the  daytime. 
I  like  having  the  dear  boys.  They  have  done  much  to  keep  the 
heart  green  under  various  Missionary  discouragements.' 

On  the  9th  of  September,  responding  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's 
letter  upon  the  unhappy  subject  related  above,  she  said  : — 

'  I  fear  that  I  cannot  share  your  hopes.  ...  A  man  who  for  nearly 
twelve  years  passed  as  a  Christian,  took  the  Sacrament  not  many 
days  before  he  became  apostate,  spoke  coarsely  of  the  Holy 
Communion  to  Muhammadans,  and  bitterly  of  Christians,  .  .  .  seems 
to  me  almost  past  hope.  He  has,  as  far  as  he  could,  "  crucified  the 
Son  of  God  afresh"  and  "  put  Him  to  an  open  shame."  .  .  .  Instead 
of,  as  you  sweetly  write,  "bitterly  lamenting,  like  St.  Peter,"  poor 
Z.  day  by  day  sits  by  his  mosque,  deceiving  the  people.' 

One  more  quotation  on  this  sad  subject  may  be  made 
from  a  letter,  dated  April  12,  1889,  when  Miss  Tucker  was 
perplexed  what  to  do  about  seeing  some  relatives  of  the 
unhappy  apostate,  who  were  staying  with  him.     '  Bishop 

French    excommunicated (we   do   not    call    him    Z. 

now),    and    forbade    Christians    having    intercourse    with 

him It  would  clearly  be  wrong  to  throw  over  the s, 

who  had  not  left  the  Fold.  I  asked  counsel  from  Herbert, 
and  guidance  from  One  Higher.'  Eventually  she  did 
manage  to  see  the  relatives  while  avoiding  the  apostate. 

Until  the  year  1886  Miss  Tucker  apparently  kept  no 
regular  written  record  of  her  daily  work.  But  in  the 
August  of  that  year,  doubtless   from   a   sense   that  her 


424  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

memory  was  becoming  less  trustworthy  than  of  old,  she 
started  a  Journal,  which  was  kept  up  until  within  three 
weeks  or  so  of  her  death.  The  Journal  consists  of  273 
closely  written  foolscap  pages  ;  and,  as  Miss  Wauton  says, 
they  *  give  us  a  glimpse  of  the  earnest,  unremitting  toil  of 
those  seven  years  in  the  Batala  Zenanas.'  The  volume 
opens  with  a  list  of  about  173  names  of  those  whom  she 
was  then  visiting ;  and  this  continued  to  be  about  the 
average  number  throughout  the  seven  years  ;  some  Zenanas 
being  from  time  to  time  closed,  while  new  ones  were 
opened.  To  quote  again  from  Miss  Wauton,  whose  long 
Indian  and  Missionary  experience  renders  her  judgment 
especially  valuable : — 

*  Besides  being  a  record  of  Zenana  work,  the  Diary  records  many 
little  incidents  in  connection  with  the  daily  life ;  e.^.  notices  of  the 
arrivals  and  departures  of  fellow -workers,  and  of  the  many  friends 
and  visitors  who  came  to  see  her.  There  are  numerous  references 
to  the  boys  of  the  Baring  High  School,  any  sickness  or  death 
amongst  them,  the  subjects  taken  in  her  classes  with  them  and  with 
the  boys  of  the  Mission  Plough.  .  .  .  All  speak  of  the  many  objects 
embraced  by  her  wide  sympathies.  But  the  Zenana  teaching  is 
always  first  and  foremost.  Other  things  come  in,  as  it  were,  by  the 
way.  The  whole  Diary  shows  how  carefully  and  methodically  she 
carried  on  this  visiting,  and  what  infinite  pains  she  took  to  find  out 
and  invent  things  which  would  help  to  attract  the  people,  and  open 
the  way  for  the  delivery  of  her  message. 

'Her  inventive  genius  enabled  her  to  do  this  very  effectively ;  and 
the  wonderful  pictures  and  allegorical  designs  she  took  with  her 
opened  many  doors,  which  would  have  probably  remained  fast  barred 
against  a  less  winning  visitor.  These  charms  were  very  varied. 
She  seems  generally  to  have  taken  one  with  her  to  every  place  she 
went  to  ;  and  to  have  changed  it  from  time  to  time,  as  the  lesson  to 
be  taught  from  it  had  been  learnt,  or  the  novelty  had  worn  off. 

'These  are  all  entered  in  the  Diary  as  "Ladder,"  "Jewel," 
"Zouave,"  "Pagoda,"  "Prism,"  "Crosses,"  "Tree,"  "Purse,"  etc. 
The  first  was  a  ladder,  painted  in  various  colours,  showing  the 
different  steps  by  which  the  sinner  mounts  up  from  grace  to  glory. 
The  second  is  a  jewel,  covered  over  with  several  pieces  of  cloth, 
representing  the  different  veils,  such  as  ignorance,  prejudice,  self- 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  425 

righteousness,  which,  covering  man's  heart,  conceal  from  his  view 
and  hinder  his  attainment  of  the  jewel  of  Truth.  But  these  con- 
trivances were  not  the  only  key  with  which  these  bigoted  Zenanas 
were  opened.  We  find  in  the  Journal  frequent  memoranda  of  little 
gifts  to  be  taken  to  certain  houses, — "  sandcloth,"  on  the  occasion  of 
a  wedding  or  birth,  "medicine,"  "quinine,"  "spectacles,"  "tea," 
"  soap,"  etc.  The  Scripture  subjects  spoken  upon  each  day  are  also 
entered.  .  .  . 

'  Her  love  of  children  was  remarkable  ;  and  in  many  cases,  where 
the  elder  members  of  the  household  refused  to  listen,  she  would  get  an 
interested  audience  from  amongst  the  little  ones.  She  writes  in  one 
place,  "  Such  nice  children  ! "  in  another,  "  I  found  myself  stroking 
little  cheeks."  .  .  .  Another  striking  feature  of  Miss  Tucker  was 
the  courage  and  indomitable  perseverance  which  she  showed  in  the 
most  difficult  and  trying  circumstances.  "Nil  Desperandum"  was 
her  favourite  motto,  and  she  carried  it  out  fully.  Sometimes  she 
was  rudely  treated,  sometimes  even  insulted ;  but  nothing  daunted 
her.' 

Here  are  a  few  specimen  extracts  from  the  Journal, 
including  one  or  two  of  unusual  length.  The  majority  are 
exceedingly  short.  I  do  not  give  the  correct  initials  for 
either  Zenanas  or  people  : — 

''Aug.  24,  1886. — A.  very  nice  sick  father,  twelve  quiet  children  ; 
Mark  ii. 

B.  a  little  better,  Christ  blessing  children. 

C.  disappointing  ;  outburst  of  bigotry  ;  M.  however  silent. 

D.  friendly  ;  read  three  parables.     Good  listening. 

E.  very  indifferent.     Bibis.     Mark  vii.     N.  left. 

Aug.  25. — F.  fair. 

G.  Had  very  nice  talk  with  him.     Prodigal  Son.     From  John  iii. 

New.     H.'s  nice  wife.     Seemed  almost  Christian.     Ditto. 

J.  nice.     Boy, ,  promised  book  if  he  comes.     From  Matt.  x. 

K.  Send  cloth  to  new  baby.     Read  a  little  of  Xt.'s  Birth. 

Aug.  26. — L.  careless.  ...  I  do  not  remember  what  I  read.  .  .  . 
M.  Only  children  attended.     Children  A.,  D.' 

Sept.  I. — L.  very  cross,  ill-tempered,  loud  voice.  Rebuked  by 
elder  woman.  I  showed  picture  of  Christ  healing,  quoted  "  Learn  of 
Me."  After  a  while  face  quite  softened,  voice  subdued.  .  .  .  Last 
thing  promised  she  would  go  to  church.  .  .  .' 


426    LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKE^ 

''Dec.  15,  1886. — Rudely  treated.  Man  with  unpleasant  face  and 
blemished  eye  shook  the  charpai  (bedstead)  on  which  I  was  seated 
four  times,  to  make  me  get  off.  Went  to  second  place ;  people 
noisy.  A  man  asked  me  to  read  of  Christ,  and  I  began.  Was  asked 
to  go  to  more  open  place.  Went, — found  open  place  was  the  outside 
of  the  village.     Had  to  go  off. 

'  B.  H.  (another  village).  Rejected  here  also.  Even  a  tiny  clod 
was  thrown.  I  told  people  at  both  villages  that  I  prayed  God  to 
forgive  them  for  their  conduct  to  His  servant.  Ours  is  a  religion  of 
love.' 

''Jan.  28,  1887. — P.  very  nice.  Q.,  a  youth,  hearing  of  Last 
Judgment,  says  that  he  wants  to  be  a  right-side  one,  and  will  pray  to 
be  so.  He  is  going  to  marry ;  says  wife  and  he  will  both  be  right 
side.  He  means  to  send  her  to  our  school.  He  learned  in  Mission 
Plough.' 

^  May  12,  1887.  .  .  .  (List  of  names.)     Except 's  house,  none 

really  satisfactory.     My  heart  very  sad.     There  seems  hardly  any 
good  ground  in  Batala.' 

The  names  of  Zenanas,  villages,  and  people  living  in 
either,  are  generally  printed  in  dark  letters  on  the  left  side 
of  the  page,  while  the  coming  and  going  of  Missionaries 
and  friends,  as  well  as  items  of  home  news,  are  printed  on 
the  right  side.  On  February  15,  1887,  is  the  terse  entry, 
'  Operation  on  eye ' ;  and  the  very  next  day,  almost  equally 
terse,  *  I  was  kicked  by  a  horse.'  Towards  the  end  of  the 
same  month  is  a  characteristic  notice  of  the  death  of  one 
of  her  nieces,  printed  large  :  '  VESA  LEFT  EARTH  ! '  Death 
to  her  meant  simply  this, — leaving  Earth  for  a  'better 
Country.' 


CHAPTER    XVI 

A.D.  1 887- 1 888 

A  VISIT   FROM   BISHOP   FRENCH 

One  matter  of  marked  interest  in  the  year  1887  was  the 
retirement  of  Bishop  French  from  the  Bishopric  of  Lahore, 
and  his  return  to  the  humbler  post  of  simple  Missionary. 
This  step  appealed  strongly  to  Miss  Tucker's  sense  of 
admiration.  On  the  8th  of  October  she  wrote  to  Mrs. 
Hamilton : — 

*  I  have  already,  as  you  see,  written  a  good  deal  by  this  mail,  .  .  . 
but  I  will  not  let  the  post  for  England  go  without  at  least  a  few  loving 
lines  to  my  own  dearest  sister.  The  dear  good  Bishop  is  resigning. 
I  hear  that  he  feels  it  sorely ;  but  he  has  no  intention  of  leaving 
work.  He  resigns  the  English  part  into  what  he  feels  to  be  stronger 
hands, — but  will,  I  believe,  continue  Missionary  work  amongst 
Natives.  He  was  first  a  Missionary  ;  and — dear  man  ! — it  is  not 
improbable  that  he  will  die  a  Missionary.  To  lay  down  a  mitre  is 
no  degradation  ! ' 

A  few  days  later,  having  heard  that  the  Bishop  purposed 
paying  her  a  little  visit  at  Batala,  she  wrote  to  him  direct : — 

'Batala,  Oct.  20,  1887. 

Revered  Bishop, — Though  I  know  not  whether  this  will  reach  you 
till  after  your  return  from  Batala,  I  cannot  forbear  thanking  you  for 
your  affectionate  letter,  and  intention  of  gratifying  me  by  visiting  my 
simple  little  Missionary  home.  I  received  your  letter  at  Amritsar, 
having — for  a  wonder — left  Batala  to  be  present  at  the  wedding  of  dear 
old  Mr.  Newton's  grandson  at  Ludhiana.  This  has  occasioneji  a  little 
delay  in  my  replying.     Mr.  Corfield  also  was  absent,  having  gone  to 

427 


428  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

bring  his  wife  from  Dharmsala ;  but  we  expect  him  to-morrow 
morning,  and  then  he  shall  know  your  wishes.  I  think  that  you  will 
find  the  Ghurub-i-Aftab  very  quiet.  You  will  see  visitors  or  not,  just 
as  you  please, — only  give  a  hint  of  your  wishes.  When  the  dear 
Lord's  Servants  honour  me  with  a  visit,  I  say  that  they  gild  my 
floors. 

'  If  it  be  not  presumptuous  in  me  to  say  so,  I  would  express  my 
feeling  that  there  is  something  beautiful  and  elevating  in  the  idea  of 
one  who  was  a  Missionary  before  he  was  a  Bishop,  becoming  a 
Missionary  after  leaving  his  Bishopric  ;  laying  down  the  crozier  and 
mitre,  to  take  up  the  simple  Evangelist's  staff.  Perhaps,  my  honoured 
Friend, — if  permitted  to  call  you  so, — your  grandest  work  is  yet  to 
come. — Yours  with  affectionate  respect,  C.  M.  Tucker. 

*"  P.S. — Please  offer  my  affectionate  and  grateful  remembrances  to 
dear  Mrs.  French.' 

The  Bishop's  visit  came  about,  as  hoped  for;  and  it 
was  a  great  pleasure  to  Miss  Tucker  to  receive  him. 
Although  they  might  differ  on  certain  points,  they 
were  one  in  absolute  love  and  obedience  to  the  same 
Lord  and  Master;  and  each  thoroughly  appreciated, 
thoroughly  delighted  in,  the  whole-hearted  and  single 
devotion  of  the  other.  In  some  respects  the  two  were 
much  alike.  There  was  in  both,  as  Dr.  Weitbrecht  has 
said,  *  a  fiery  impatience  of  difficulty  or  delay  which  some- 
times led  to  mistakes.'  In  both  also  there  was  a  remark- 
able upliftedness, — if  the  word  is  permissible, — an  absorp- 
tion in  things  spiritual,  which  made  earthly  matters  seem 
altogether  unimportant  by  comparison. 

The  one  drawback  to  Miss  Tucker's  enjoyment  was  that 
she  gave  up  to  the  Bishop  her  own  little  'house,' — and 
such  changes  had  at  her  time  of  life  grown  to  be  somewhat 
of  a  trial.  But  she  would  not  hear  of  a  gentleman  being 
permitted  to  sleep  in  '  Sonnenschein,'  with  the  younger 
ladies, — not  even  her  beloved  and  revered  Bishop  ! !  She 
had  not  perhaps  entirely  even  yet  lost  sight  of  her  old 
favourite  idea  of  a  home  for  Mission  Miss  Sahibas,  into 
which  a  man's  foot  might  not  enter.     At  all  events,  she 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  429 

decided  to  sleep  there  herself,  and  to  give  up  her  little 
Sunset  home  to  the  Bishop.     Which  she  did. 

*  It  was  beautiful  to  see  them  together/  Miss  Dixie  has 
said,  when  speaking  of  this  visit,  which  lasted  somewhat 
under  a  week.  The  Bishop  and  Miss  Tucker  went  about 
in  company,  attended  church  together,  and  had  many  a 
long  talk, — both  of  them  white-haired,  fragile  in  look,  worn 
out  with  heavy  toil,  aged  beyond  their  years.  Both  would 
be  so  utterly  absorbed  in  the  subject  under  discussion,  as 
to  see  nothing  around,  to  hear  nothing  that  went  on. 
There  was  about  each  of  them  a  remarkable  Other-worldli- 
ness,  to  use  a  curious  term,  sometimes  employed  in  this 
sense.  They  were  citizens  of  Heaven,  not  of  Earth  ;  and 
they  realised  the  fact  to  an  extent  not  often  equalled. 

But  with  all  her  '  Other-worldliness,'  Miss  Tucker  never 
lost  the  sense  of  fun  and  humour,  as  connected  with  the 
things  of  this  world.  One  amusing  little  incident  is  told 
of  the  Bishop's  visit.  He  had  brought  with  him  a 
Muhammadan  manservant.  Miss  Tucker  habitually  kept 
in  her  cupboard  a  small  bottle  of  brandy,  in  case  of  need, 
— the  brandy  being  well  dosed  with  quinine,  to  render  it 
unattractive.  When  the  Bishop  was  gone,  this  little  bottle 
was  found  to  have  vanished  also.  Miss  Tucker,  on  making 
the  discovery,  went  back  to  her  friends,  to  exclaim,  with  an 
indescribable  expression,  '  That  greedy  Muhammadan  has 
taken  the  brandy  ? ' — then  bursting  into  a  fit  of  laughter  at 
the  thought  of  his  surprise  on  tasting  the  quinine.  She 
often  referred  to  this  afterwards  with  great  amusement. 

It  was  remarkable  in  A.  L.  O.  E.  that  she  still,  in  old 
age,  remembered  and  carefully  followed  in  small  matters  her 
parents'  wishes.  Not  of  course  that  her  life  was  shaped 
by  them.  Probably  old  Mr.  Tucker  would  have  disap- 
proved of  few  things  more  highly  than  of  a  woman  under- 
taking such  work  as  she  undertook  ;  but  here  she  followed 
the  dictates  of  her  own  conscience.     In  slighter  questions, 


430  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

where  conscience  was  not  involved,  she  loved  to  do  what 
they  had  of  old  desired.  Still,  as  always,  she  rose  early  to 
work,  and  went  to  bed  in  good  time,  according  to  the  promise 
given  long,  long  before.  Still,  when  she  drank  afternoon 
tea,  she  always  took  something  to  eat  with  it,  because  *  her 
Mother  had  liked  her  to  do  so.'  And  often,  though  old  and 
weak,  when  she  caught  herself  to  be  stooping,  she  still  would 
pull  herself  sharply  upright,  and  say :  '  I  remembered, — 
my  dear  Father  always  wanted  me  to  sit  straight.' 

While  habitually  much  interested  in  engagements  and 
marriages,  she  was  particular  as  to  modes  of  speech  on  such 
subjects.  Once  or  twice,  when  some  girl-visitor  spoke  with 
what  she  considered  an  unbecoming  lightness,  upon  some 
matter  of  love  or  love-making.  Miss  Tucker  observed,  after 
the  girl's  departure, — '  My  dear,  what  a  vulgar  person  ! ! ' 

The  same  curious  diversity  of  opinion  as  to  particular 
points  of  Miss  Tucker's  character  which  was  observable  in 
her  English  life,  is  also  observable  in  her  Indian  life.  Here 
again  are  opposite  opinions.  One  says,  '  She  was  so 
peculiarly  sympathetic  ! '  Another,  with  equally  good 
opportunities  for  judging,  says,  '  Exceedingly  kind,  but 
not  sympathetic'  One  says,  '  She  was  so  well  able  to  put 
herself  into  the  place  of  another  in  trouble ! '  Another 
says,  '  No  tact ;  the  kindest  intentions,  but  she  did  not 
always  know  how  to  manage.' 

The  explanation  lies,  no  doubt,  at  least  in  part,  in  her 
own  many-sidedness,  and  in  the  very  different  manner  in 
which  she  was  affected  by  different  people.  Some  appealed 
to  her  tenderness  ;  some  only  called  out  her  kindliness. 
She  could  and  did  love  intensely  ;  but  only  in  particular 
cases  :  and  though  to  a  wide  outer  circle  she  gave  love,  it  was 
of  a  less  ardent  nature.  Moreover,  she  could  dislike  people ; 
and  when  she  once  took  a  marked  dislike,  though  this 
was  seldom,  it  would  be  not  quite  easy  to  make  her  view 
with  fairness  that  person's  doings. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  431 

She  was  very  impulsive  still ;  the  same  eager,  enthusi- 
astic warm-hearted  being,  who  had  lived  in  girlhood  at 
No.  3, — modified,  but  not  intrinsically  different.  Possibly, 
in  old  age,  with  weakened  health,  after  living  practically 
much  alone,  the  natural  tendency  to  hasty  judgments 
may  have  somewhat  increased.  But  if  so,  there  was  also 
an  increase  in  the  spirit  of  humility,  a  far  greater  readiness 
than  of  old  to  acknowledge  herself  mistaken  or  in  the 
wrong.  By  nature  she  was  not  gentle  and  had  not  self- 
control  ;  and  physical  weakness  doubtless  often  rendered  the 
fight  harder, — yet  she  persevered  in  the  fight  with  never- 
failing  resolution. 

Sometimes  she  would  hear  of  a  thing  done  by  one  of 
the  younger  Missionaries,  and  would  at  once  condemn  it, 
not  waiting  to  learn  all  the  circumstances,  and  speaking 
with  some  severity.  A  few  days  later  something  would 
turn  up,  explaining  more  fully  the  why  and  the  wherefore 
of  the  action  in  question  ;  and  then  she  would  say  frankly, 
'  Well,  I  think  I  was  wrong,  after  all !  I  think  you  were 
right  to  do  as  you  did  ! '  A  smaller  and  less  noble  nature 
would  probably  have  refused  to  see  the  mistake,  and  would 
have  clung  obstinately  to  its  own  way  of  thinking. 

Although  she  would  occasionally  speak  hastily,  she  did 
not  as  a  rule  write  hastily.  If  she  could  not  in  her 
letters  praise  a  person,  she  would  cease  to  bring  forward 
that  person's  name, — at  all  events  in  letters  meant  for 
general  reading. 

It  may  also  be  noted  here  that,  as  time  went  on,  Char- 
lotte Tucker,  in  her  extreme  desire  for  Missionary  sim- 
plicity and  economy,  had  become  a  little  apt  to  push 
matters  in  that  direction  to  an  excess.  Few  people  are 
constituted  as  she  was,  to  toil  hard  and  to  live  long  upon 
the  smallest  possible  minimum  of  food.  As  some  of  the 
weakness  of  old  age  crept  over  her,  she  was  perhaps  not 
always  quite  reasonable  respecting  Missionary  requirements 


432  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

and  necessities.  She  would  at  times  seem  to  expect 
others,  for  the  sake  of  economy,  to  do  with  what  she 
herself  found  sufficient,  but  which  to  their  different  con- 
stitutions meant  something  like  semi-starvation.  This  at 
least  is  the  impression  of  one  who  ought  to  be  accounted 
a  good  judge,  and  it  appears  to  have  been  in  some  degree 
a  trouble  to  certain  of  her  companions. 

During  all  those  long  years  of  Indian  life,  amid  the 
variety  of  people  with  whom  she  was  thrown,  while  there 
were  many  whom  she  could  love,  and  some  whom  she 
could  love  most  warmly,  there  were  also  naturally  a  few 
who  did  not  suit  her,  any  more  than  she  suited  them.  She 
may  have  been  somewhat  of  a  trial  to  them  ;  and  undoubt- 
edly they  were  very  much  of  a  trial  to  her  ;  yet  despite  all 
her  natural  impetuosity  and  impatience  of  disposition,  she 
bore  long  and  patiently  in  such  cases.  As  one  says,  who  was 
with  her  in  some  of  those  later  years,  'Although  sometimes 
hasty  in  judging,  she  was  also  capable  of  much  forbearance.' 

It  is  noticeable  that  one  who  knew  her  well  speaks  of  a 
remarkable  softening  and  increase  of  gentleness  during 
the  last  three  years  of  her  life.  Naturally  very  '  up  and 
down '  in  her  moods,  she  became  then  far  more  uniformly 
bright.  The  fruit  was  growing  very  ripe,  almost  ready  to 
drop  from  the  tree.  Miss  Wauton,  too,  tells  of  the  growing 
loveliness  of  expression  in  her  face,  as  the  end  drew  nearer. 
But  we  have  not  yet  quite  arrived  at  those  last  three  years. 

By  this  time  Miss  Tucker  was  a  little  apt  to  fall  behind 
in  new  methods  of  work,  and  to  cling  to  what  was  old- 
fashioned.  Needful  changes  in  the  High  School  were  at 
first  a  trouble  to  her,  even  though  they  might  be  real 
improvements,  tending  to  render  the  school  more  efficient. 
She  liked,  for  instance,  to  drop  in  at  odd  hours,  and  to 
<take  a  class,'  after  the  manner  of  an  English  squire's 
daughter  dropping  into  the  village  school.  As  numbers 
and  discipline  increased  it  was  found  to  be  not  always  a 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  433 

convenient  plan,  and  objections  were  made.  Miss  Tucker 
one  day,  in  a  fit  of  depression  at  having  to  give  up  this 
and  other  things,  is  recorded  to  have  said,  'My  work 
is  done  !     I  don't  care  how  soon  I  go  now  ! ' 

This  happily  was  a  mere  passing  fit  of  sadness.  It  was 
soon  after  arranged  that  a  Class  of  the  older  youths 
should  go  to  her  for  instruction  on  Sunday  afternoons  ; 
and  in  the  class  she  found  very  great  interest.  She  would 
also  ask  her  '  dear  boys,'  a  few  at  a  time,  to  spend  week- 
day evenings  with  her,  for  games  of  play,  which  she 
enjoyed  fully  as  much  as  they  did.  She  was  very  much 
beloved  by  the  boys ;  and  they  were  no  less  delighted  to 
come  to  her  than  she  was  to  have  them.  Her  influence 
over  these  boys,  over  Indian  Christians  generally,  and  over 
most  of  the  Missionaries  with  whom  she  came  in  contact, 
will  never  be  forgotten. 

The  springy  step  of  earlier  years  was  not  quite  lost,  even 
in  old  age.  Another  thing  that  she  kept  remarkably  long 
was,  as  earlier  stated,  her  voice  for  singing.  It  had  of 
course  grown  thin  and  weak,  and  was  now  a  good  deal 
cracked  ;  still  she  did  not  sing  out  of  tune  ;  and  her  enjoy- 
ment in  singing  never  failed.  It  was  with  her  the  natural 
expression  of  her  feelings.  When  she  sang  in  Church,  and 
when  she  played  the  harmonium,  her  whole  face  would 
light  up  in  a  marvellous  manner.  Indians — not  Chris- 
tians— would  walk  long  distances,  and  be  present  in 
Church,  simply  to  look  upon  the  face  of  the  Buzurg  Miss 
Sahiba,  as  she  sang  or  played.  Such  an  illumination  on 
the  face  of  a  human  being  was  counted  well  worth  some 
exertion  to  see.  Another  account  tells  of  a  Native  who 
would  go  to  Church  for  the  express  purpose  of  watching 
her  look,  when  she  recited  the  Gloria.  It  was  all  so  real 
to  A.  L.  O.  E.     Her  very  smile  was  a  sermon  in  itself. 

All  these  years  Zenana  teaching  went  steadfastly  on. 
She  ever  had  before  her  mind  a  keen  sense  that  her  own 

2E 


434  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

call  might  come  before  another  morning's  dawn,  and  that 
the  present  might  "be  her  last  opportunity  of  speaking. 
Sometimes  she  would  be  depressed  when  reading  of  others 
who  had  had  more  apparent  results  to  their  work ;  yet 
through  countless  discouragements  she  never  slackened. 

The  same  Native  Christian  from  whom  I  have  quoted 
earlier  as  to  the  non-success,  in  his  opinion,  of  her 
Missionary  labours,  says  also  about  Miss  Tucker :  '  She 
was  far  from  being  a  good  judge  of  the  Indian  character. 
I  remember  her  pointing  to  a  Native  Christian,  and  say- 
ing that  the  very  light  of  Heaven  was  being  reflected  from 
his  countenance,  when  in  fact  he  had  almost  apostatised.' 
But  this  was  simply  a  repetition  of  the  old  tendency  to 
think  always  the  very  best  of  everybody, — the  habit  being 
cultivated  to  such  an  excess  as  materially  to  interfere 
with  her  powers  of  perception  in  particular  cases.  It 
does  not  touch  the  question  of  her  general  understanding 
of  the  Indian  character.  Penetration,  as  to  individuals, 
was  hardly  one  of  her  gifts ;  and  few  would  hesitate 
to  agree  to  the  assertion  that  she  thought  a  great  deal 
better  of  many  Natives  than,  unfortunately,  they  deserved. 
Her  eyes  were  opened  slowly  through  bitter  and  repeated 
disappointments.  But  to  the  last  she  would  probably 
have  preferred  to  be  sometimes  deceived,  rather  than  to  be 
always  suspecting. 

In  the  continuous  pressure  of  her  work  and  trials,  Char- 
lotte Tucker  was  a  woman  of  prayer.  Not  that  she  was 
given  to  long  and  wordy  outpourings  ;  but  she  lived  on  the 
border-land  of  the  Unseen,  and  she  held  incessant  inter- 
course with  her  Divine  Master.  Whatever  she  felt,  whatever 
she  wanted,  when  she  was  afraid,  when  she  was  depressed, 
when  things  went  wrong,  when  she  could  not  see  her  way, 
the  first  impulse  of  her  heart  was  always — prayer !  Then 
she  would  wait  to  see  His  Will. 

Systematic  as  were  the  entries  in  her  Journal,  those  last 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  435 

few  years  of  life,  she  was  apt  to  be  a  little  forgetful, — which 
no  doubt  was  the  very  reason  that  she  started  the  Journal. 
She  would  come  in  and  say  to  Miss  Dixie,  *  Such  a  sweet 
young  Bibi  in  a  Zenana  to-day,  dear.  She  wants  to  see 
you.'  When  Miss  Dixie  asked  where  the  young  Bibi  lived, 
her  recollections  were  confused,  and  she  could  not  say.  The 
name  of  Bibi,  husband,  and  house  had  all  escaped.  Miss 
Dixie  would  then  have  to  question  the  bearers  as  to  where 
they  had  taken  Miss  Tucker,  and  so  find  out  particulars. 

The  writing  of  books  and  booklets  still  continued  to 
some  extent ;  indeed,  it  could  not  have  been  long  before 
this  that  she  achieved  a  good-sized  volume  for  young 
English  readers,  called — Pictures  of  St.  Peter  in  an  English 
Home.  As  its  name  might  imply,  it  was  controversial  in 
character,  being  written  against  the  errors  of  the  Roman 
Church.  She  could  not,  however,  work  so  hard  now  with 
her  pen  as  in  earlier  years.  Dr.  Weitbrecht  states  that 
'her  books  for  publication  in  England,  the  proceeds  of 
which  went  to  support  local  work,  were  mostly  written 
during  her  brief  summer  holiday.  It  was  when  she  felt 
her  powers  failing  in  this  line  that  she  set  aside  part  of  her 
patrimony  to  endow  the  "  Mission  Plough." ' 

The  absence  of  allusions  to  her  own  writings  in  years  of 
correspondence  is  remarkable.  Once  in  a  way  she  speaks 
of  what  she  is  doing,  but  this  is  quite  the  exception.  Her 
natural  reserve  showed  strongly  here.  She  had  also  a 
curious  dislike  to  being  questioned — a  fact  noticed  by 
relatives  in  her  English  life  years  before ;  and  one  of  her 
Missionary  companions  tells  of  it  also.  If  questions  were 
put  direct,  she  would  say,  '  I  am  not  your  Mother- 
Superior  ;  don't  appeal  to  me  ! ' — when  her  questioner  was 
longing  to  have  the  benefit  of  her  years  of  experience.  A 
story  is  told  of  one  gentleman,  who  came  from  a  con- 
siderable distance,  on  purpose  to  consult  Miss  Tucker 
about  some  books  that  he  meant  to  publish.     The  call  was 


436  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

a  failure.  Instead  of  gradually  getting  into  conversation, 
and  luring  her  on  to  tell  what  she  knew,  he  asked  point- 
blank  the  things  that  he  wanted  to  hear  ;  and  the  result  was 
nil.  On  his  way  back  to  the  station,  he  inquired  whether 
Miss  Tucker  had  not  lost  her  memory.  Not  at  all,  he  was 
told, — but  direct  questioning  always  checked  information. 

In  the  November  of  1887  the  small  Star-Dispensary  was 
opened  by  Dr.  Weitbrecht,  for  Miss  Dixie.  She  had  under- 
gone some  training  in  England  ;  and  though  not '  qualified,' 
she  had  it  in  her  power  to  do  much  more  for  the  women 
and  children  of  the  neighbourhood  than  their  own  people 
could  do  for  them.  Many  objections  have  been  made  to  the 
idea  of  a  Dispensary  anywhere,  without  a  properly  qualified 
doctor  ;  and  no  doubt  as  soon  as  possible  the  latter  should 
in  all  cases  be  supplied.  But  where  a  doctor  cannot  be  had, 
then  in  default  of  what  is  better,  a  trained  nurse  can  do  a 
great  deal  to  help,  in  ordinary  cases  of  sickness  or  accident. 
The  reception  given  to  this  little  Dispensary  soon  showed 
how  much  it  was  valued. 

In  a  letter  of  December  9th  are  some  words  of  depres- 
sion under  difficulties,  especially  the  difficulty  of  finding  a 
new  master  for  the  *  Plough  School,'  as  the  former  master 
was  going  away. 

*  I  send  you  and  dear  Leila  a  few  words  of  St.  Paul's  which  seem 
to  me  so  sweet  and  restful, — a  pillow  for  weary  heads.  "  Beloved  of 
God,  called  to  be  saints."  It  is  often  difficult  to  realise  that  we  are 
beloved  of  God,  because  conscience  says  we  do  not  deserve  to  be  so. 
I  have  often  to  fight  against  discouragements.' 

On  the  2 1  St  of  January  1888  is  a  mention  of  the 
*  Missionary  Ladies'  Conference,'  to  be  held  in  Amritsar 
late  in  February,  with  a  hope  that  all  would  be  '  as  friendly 
and  good-tempered '  as  on  the  previous  occasion,  five 
years  earlier.  Towards  the  close  of  February  comes  her 
report  of  what  had  occurred  : — 

'■Feb.  24,  1888.— I  found  your  letter  awaiting  me  this  evening,  when 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  437 

I  returned  from  the  four  days'  Conference  of  Lady  Missionaries  at 
Amritsar.  .  .  .  Conferences  are  rather  tiring.  Sittings  each  day  from 
lo  to  I,  and  2  to  4,  and  always  something  besides.  We  had  about 
sixty  ladies,  of  various  Denominations  and  Societies  and  Nationalities 
too,  English,  German,  American,  Indian.  On  Thursday,  after  our 
Conference  work,  we  went  to  Church,  and  had  such  a  solemn  spiritual 
sermon  from  our  new  Bishop.^  It  was  the  first  time  that  I  ever  had 
seen  him. 

'  In  the  evening  there  was  rather  a  large  meeting  of  Christians, 
both  white  and  brown,  to  meet  the  Bishop.  I  was  introduced  to 
him ;  and  we  had — in  the  midst  of  the  room — a  quiet  talk,  which  I 
do  not  think  that  I  shall  ever  forget.  It  was  almost  as  if  we  could  at 
once  meet  heart  to  heart.  ...  I  think  that  he  takes  up  his  high  office 
more  as  a  burden  and  a  Cross  than  a  dignity.  I  felt  greatly  drawn 
towards  him,  and  thank  the  Lord  for  sending  us  a  holy  and  humble 
man.' 

*  Feb.  28.— I  must  tell  my  loved  Laura  a  little  about  the  Conference, 
and  the  characteristic  way  in  which  M.,  the  real,  took  me  down  a 
peg  this  evening.  The  first  day  nice  Mrs.  Perkins,  presided  ;  on  the 
second  another  nice  lady  ;  I  was  particularly  requested  to  sit  in  the 
chair  on  the  third  and  the  first  half  of  the  fourth  days. 

'Now  on  the  second  there  had  been  rather  a  hot  discussion. 
There  had  been  a  show  of  hands ;  but  numbers  were  so  closely 
divided  that  we  had  to  go  by  ballot.  Even  then  there  was  only  a 
majority  of  one ;  and  some  of  the  members  were  absent,  and  some 
imperfectly  informed.  In  short,  when  Char  succeeded  to  office,  the 
question  was  brought  up  again  by  a  strong  lady  on  the  one  side, — 
and  then  a  paper  was  read  by  a  strong  lady  on  the  other, — and  I 
proposed  that  votes  should  be  taken  again,  which  resulted  in  a 
majority  of  four,  I  being  one  of  the  four.  A  lady  of  the  minority 
called  out,  "  It  does  not  matter  what  is  voted  ;  we  will  all  do  just  the 
same  as  before," — which  was  more  true  than  polite.  Then  there  was 
another  lady,  who  got  up  time  after  time,  to  make  impracticable 
propositions  ;  and  she  got  snubbed  and  sat  down  and  cried.  .  .  .  Oh 
dear,  it  does  not  do  to  be  so  thin-skinned  !  So  you  see,  dear,  all  did 
not  go  on  quite  smoothly  while  I  sat  in  the  chair,  with  the  bonnet  on 
my  head  which  you  wore  at  dear  Fred's  wedding  ! 

'This  evening  .  .  .  Herbert  asked  M.  about  the  Conference. 
"  I  thought  the  first  day  nice,  when  Mrs.  Perkins  presided,"  said  she. 
I  laughed  a  little  again,  and,  I  think,  complimented  her  on  her 
1  Bishop  Matthews. 


438  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

sincerity.  ...  It  was  clear  that  M.  did  not  admire  my  way  of 
presiding.  Now,  I  had  been  voted  thanks  at  the  meeting  ;  but  dear 
M.'s  honesty  made  me  feel  more  than  I  had  done  before  that 
I  had  not  been  very  efficient.     It  is  a  good  thing  to  know  the  truth. 

'  Is  not  this  a  funny  little  ghmpse  of  life  ?  .  .  .  I  doubt  myself  that 
there  is  much  use  in  Conferences,  except  that  it  is  nice  that  some 
dear  workers  should  meet  and  know  each  other.  We  had  many  very 
choice  ones.' 

More  than  a  year  later  Miss  Tucker  referred  again  to 
this  Conference,  when  writing  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  upon  the 
subject  of  whether  or  not  secular  teaching  in  schools  should 
be  undertaken  by  Missionary  ladies  : — 

*I  cannot  explain  to  you  all  the  difficulties  that  surround  the 
question.  We  had  a  kind  of  wordy  battle  on  the  matter  at  the 
Ladies'  Conference ;  and  it  was  no  good  !  When  a  lady  proposed 
another  Conference  after  another  five  years,  I  suggested  after  ten^  but 
no  one  seconded  poor  Char  !  I  am  not  calm  and  phlegmatic  enough 
for  these  discussions,  and,  I  am  afraid,  do  not  always  see  both  sides 
of  a  question.  I  more  and  more  now  mistrust  my  own  judgment,  and 
sometimes  feel  rather  disgusted  with — myself ! ' 

There  are  thousands  of  people  who  lack  the  power  of 
looking  on  both  sides  of  a  question  ;  but  among  them  all 
few  are  humble  enough  to  acknowledge  the  fact! — still 
more,  to  distrust  their  own  judgment. 

When  the  Conference  was  over,  Miss  Tucker  remarked 
to  one  of  her  companions,  '  I  proposed  ten  years,  because 
I  thought  that  then  I  should  not  be  here.'  She  was  '  here ' 
five  years  later,  but  was  within  a  few  months  of  her  call 
Home. 

^  March  17,  1888. — I  will  tell  you  of  a  curious  surprise  I  had  a  few 
days  ago.  I  was  in  my  duli  in  one  of  the  streets  of  Batala,  when  I 
met  one  of  my  most  highly  respected  Native  friends,  the  dear  old 
Pandit,  now  the    Rev.    K.   S.    .    .    .  A    crowded   street   is  not  the 

place  for  a  talk.     The  Pandit  asked  me  to  go  to  his  village,  O , 

and  had  evidently  some  particular  reason  for  his  request.  As  the 
next  day  was  one  of  my  village  days,  I  promised  to  go  then.  .  .  ,  If 
I  thought  much  about  the  cause  of  a  visit  being  desired,  I  guessed 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  439 

that  it  either  concerned  some  Mission  work,  or  the  health  of  the 
good  Bibi.  But  I  was  utterly  wide  of  the  mark,  and  so  I  think  will 
my  Laura  and  Leila  be,  if  they  take  to  guessing. 

'The  dear  couple  had  set  their  hearts  on  presenting  me  with  a 
beautiful,  richly  embroidered  white  Cashmere  shawl,  which  the  Bibi, 
I  know  not  how  long  ago,  had  bought  .  .  .  from  some  one  in  dis- 
tress. In  vain  I  expostulated,  in  vain  said  that  the  lovely  shawl 
was  fit  for  the  Queen,  and  that  it  was  not  suitable  for  me  to  wear 
anything  so  handsome  ;  that  it  might  be  sold  for  the  Mission. 
Both  the  smiling  husband  and  wife  were  determined  to  have  it  round 
my  shoulders  ;  and  I  had  to  go  away  wearing  it,  though  I  took  it  off 
in  the  duli,  and  took  care  of  it,  as  if  it  had  been  a  child.  Now,  the 
Pandit  and  his  wife  want  nothing  from  me ;  this  was  no  case  of 
giving  in  hopes  of  receiving.    The  whole  thing  took  me  by  surprise.' 

^  April  21. — We  are  soon  to  go — all  in  the  heat— to  share  a  3  P.M. 
pinner  at  the  Corfields,  and  meet  the  Bishop,  Mr.  Clark,  and  dear 
Herbert, — such  a  galaxy  of  good  men,  that  we  won't  mind  the  heat, 
especially  as  my  plump  wadded  umbrella  is  a  real  protection. 

'  I  am  reading — slowly — like  a  child  enjoying  a  cake,  that  delight- 
ful Life  of  Bishop  Gobat.  I  mean  to  buy  a  copy  for  myself;  it  would 
be  so  good  for  lending  or  extracting  from.  It  is  such  a  humbling 
book  too.  I  feel  like  a  barn-door  chicken  looking  up  at  an  eagle, 
and  chirping,  "  I  'm  a  bird  too  ! "  A  pretty  difference  between 
them  !     Now  to  put  on  your  sun-hat,  and  be  off.' 

''April  26. — You  are  quite  right  if  you  think  your  unnamed 
convert's  idea  of  his  baptism  killing  his  mother  a  false  one.  It  seems 
the  regular  trick  here  to  draw  back  converts  from  Christ  by  telling 
them  of  a  mother's  illness.  We  feel  in  such  cases  the  force  of  our 
Lord's  words,  "  Let  the  dead  bury  their  dead  ! "  It  seems  hard  at 
first ;  but  experience  shows  us  how  needful  is  the  caution.' 

'•May  I.— Neither  has  April  gone  out  smiling,  nor  did  "  May  come 
laughing  o'er  the  plain."  The  one  has  gone  out,  the  other  came  in, — 
in  such  a  passion.  It  was  so  dark  yesterday  that  I  was  reminded  of 
a  London  fog.  Minnie  required  a  lamp  to  read  by ;  a  lamp,  at  4^ 
P.M.  on  a  summer-day,  shed  its  light  on  our  dinner-table.  This  is  my 
day  for  villages  when  I  have  extra  kahars.  I  had  ordered  them  not 
to  come,  should  the  day  be  as  bad  as  yesterday  ;  but  come  they  did. 
Evidently  these  hardy  fellows  do  not  mind  a  dust-storm.  They  rather 
seem  to  enjoy  it,  .  .  .  and  laughed  merrily  enough  as  we  went  along.' 

''June  I,  1888. — I  have  to  thank  my  sweet  Laura  for  helping  to 


440  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

provide  me  with  a  nice  tussore  dress  for  my  visit  to  Murree.  I 
cannot  wear  white  there  as  I  do  in  Batala,  where  it  does  not  look 
odd,  as  almost  every  man,  woman,  and  child  appears  in  white. 
There  is  nothing  like  it  for  such  hot  weather.  But  in  Murree,  where 
there  are  many  European  ladies,  I  must  dress  more  suitably,  and  also 
be  prepared  for  any  kind  of  weather,  heat,  cold,  and  torrents  of  rain. 
For  my  cold-weather  apparel  I  have  the  very  elegant  grey  dress^ 
which  dear  W.  and  M.  gave  me  a  few  years  ago.  When  the  weather 
is  warmer  my  new  tussore  will  be  just  the  thing.  I  do  not  like  writing 
so  much  about  dress  ;  but  I  wished  to  thank  you  for  your  kindness.  . .  . 
*  Excuse  a  short  letter,  love.  I  have  so  much  writing  in  the  way 
of  thanking  for  gifts  to  the  Mission.  Friends  are  so  very  kind.  I 
have  asked  a  kind  Station-lady,  Mrs.  G.,  whether  she  will  help 
me  to  sell  at  Murree  beautiful  things  sent  from  England  for  the 
Mission.  I  am  a  bad  saleswoman  myself.  I  sometimes  feel  inclined 
to  tell  people  not  to  buy  what  they  do  not  require.' 

''June  19,  1888. — I  was  so  much  interested  to-day  by  our  young 
Goorkha  J.'s  account  of  his  own  conversion  and  adventures,  that  I 
will  try  to  write  out  the  gist  of  it  for  you  and  dear  Leila.  .  .  . 

*Born  of  a  Brahmin  family  in  Nepaul,  our  Goorkha  thought  of 
himself  as  a  kind  of  god.  He  would  motion  to  beings  of  lower 
dignity  to  sit  at  a  little  distance  from  him  ;  he  was  not  to  be  polluted 
by  their  touch.     The  child,  however,  attended  a  Mission  School  at 

D ,  and  came  a  good  deal  under  the  influence  of  a  Christian 

Convert,  a  Pandit  (learned  man).  At  the  age  of  about  twelve  the 
boy  resolved  to  leave  father,  mother,  all,  for  Christ.  He  was  too 
young  to  be  baptized  without  his  parents'  permission,  and  was  advised 
to  go  a  long  way  off.  To  be  able  to  do  so,  the  boy  sold  his  valuable 
gold  earrings  and  bracelets,  and,  having  thus  a  good  stock  of  rupees, 
he  made  his  start,  not  by  any  direct  route,  but  through  wild,  un- 
inhabited jungle. 

'  He  was  accompanied  and  helped  by  an  older  Hindu,  a  sad  rogue, 
who  had  his  own  object,  it  appears,  in  assisting  the  flight  of  the 
wealthy  young  Brahmin.  The  country  was  rocky  and  infested  by 
wild  beasts.  For  two  nights  the  fugitives  slept  in  the  trees,  for 
protection  against  leopards,  bears,  and  tigers.  But  this  extreme 
discomfort  could  not  be  endured  a  third  night  ;  so  they  slept  on  the 
ground,  after  lighting  fires  to  prevent  any  attack  from  fierce  animals 
roaming  about.  The  boy  awoke, — I  am  not  sure  whether  it  was  on 
that  or  a  succeeding  morning, — to  find  that  the  false  Hindu  had 
decamped  with  his  money,  clothes,  etc.     Happily,  the  boy-convert 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  441 

had  secreted  on  his  own  person  fifteen  or  twenty  rupees ;  and  with 
these,  in  the  torn  dirty  clothes  left  to  him  still,  the  Brahmin  went  on, 
and  found  his  way  to  where  some  Hindus  dwelt.  These  were  kind, 
but  tried  to  dissuade  him  from  changing  his  religion.  The  Goorkha 
was,  however,  evidently  a  boy  of  strong  character.  He  made  his 
way  to  a  train,  the  first  which  he  had  ever  entered,  and  reached 
Calcutta  at  last. 

'  Here  he  wandered  from  place  to  place,  to  find  a  school.  Pro- 
vidence at  last  put  the  boy  under  the  kind,  almost  paternal,  care 

of  the  Rev. B.,  who  nursed  him  through  illness,  and  fed  him 

himself.  The  Brahmin  at  first  chose  only  to  drink  milk ;  evidently 
he  still  clung  to  caste.  However,  his  prejudices  wore  away.  Mr. 
B.  took  the  lad  on  an  itinerating  tour,  and  afterwards  placed  him 

at  school,  first  at  C ,  afterwards  at  R .     At  R our  boy, 

after  receiving  more  religious  instruction, — for  he  says  that  he  knew 
very  little, — was  baptized  by  the  name  of  J.  After  a  while  he  was 
sent  to  Batala.  ...  I  hope  that  after  a  while  he  will  study  at  a 
Theological  College,  and  become  a  Catechist  and  Missionary  to  his 
own  people.  J.  has  written  two  or  three  times  to  his  parents,  but 
his  letters  have  been  returned.  .  .  . 

'  I  am  writing  very  early  this  week,  as  I  propose  starting  for 
Murree  to-morrow,' 

*  MuRREE,  y^^/j/  II. — On  Friday  week  I  propose  beginning  my 
homeward  flight  to  Batala.  It  will  be  a  different  sort  of  life  at  the 
Gurub-i-Aftab.  Here  there  are  morning  callers,  and  afternoon 
visitors,  and  luncheons,  and  tea-parties,  and  many  a  box-wala^  or 
kapra-wala  brings  his  wares,  to  tempt  us,  spreading  out  a  variety 
of  pretty  things.  .  .  .  One  of  my  pleasures  is  to  see  the  lovely  fair 
blue-eyed  children  going  about  with  their  ayahs.  I  am  so  much 
accustomed  to  see  brown  babies,  that  some  of  the  English  ones 
look  to  me  almost  like  cherubs.  The  church-going  is  a  great  grati- 
fication ;  it  is  so  nice  to  have  prayers  and  sermon  in  English,  and 
I  greatly  enjoy  the  hymns.  ...  I  enjoy  my  quiet  morning  walks 
in  the  lovely  wooded  paths  on  the  hills.  This  house  is  very  con- 
veniently situated  near  the  church  ;  so  one  does  not  require  much 
mountings  which  is  tiring.  I  do  not  attempt  long  walks,  but  stroll 
about.  My  dear  Rowland  and  Helen  have  had  much  anxiety  about 
their  little  Robin.' 

'  Batala,  Aug.  9,  1888. — As  our  Dr.  Miss  Sahiba,  Minnie,  is  away, 
I  have  now  and  then  to  try  my  'prentice  hand  a  little,  but  in  a  very 

1  Pedlar. 


442  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

humble,  cautious  way.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  making  pills, 
but  have  invested  in  big  bottles  of  castor-oil  and  turpentine.  I 
have  quinine,  of  course,  and  ammonia  in  case  of  bites  or  stings. 
I  don't  revel  in  physic,  like  Minnie  ;  and  dimness  of  sight  and 
want  of  steadiness  of  hand  do  not  serve  to  make  me  more  fit  to 
add  Doctor  to  my  name.  What  a  blessing  it  is  that  some  people 
actually  like  doctoring !  I  remember  saying  to  my  .  .  .  kind- 
hearted  ,  now  a  doctor,  that  operations  must  be  trying.     "  I 

like  them,"  was  his  simple,  truthful  reply.  Well — Buckland  liked 
playing  with  snails  and  snakes.     De  gustibus  non  disputandmnP 

On  September  the  loth,  speaking  of  a  planned  trip  to 
Lahore,  to  see  her  nephew  and  niece,  she  continues  : — 

'  I  propose  after  parting  with  the  dear  ones  to  sleep  at  the 
Mission  House  at  Amritsar,  and  to-morrow  go  to  the  hospital,  to 
see  my  dear  ayah,  Hannah,  whom  we  sent  there,  not  knowing  that 
— as  we  fear — a  deadly  illness  is  on  her.  Dear,  gentle,  loving 
Hannah  !  she  has  served  me  faithfully  for  about  seven  years ;  and 
in  all  that  time  I  cannot  remember  her  doing  one  wrong  thing,  or 
saying  one  wrong  word.  A  humble,  gentle  Christian,  good  wife, 
good  mother, — ah  !  she  is  a  sad  loss  to  her  family  of  seven,  .  .  . 
and  also  to  your  loving  Char.' 

''Nov.  I.  1888. — The  first  of  November,  darling  Laura,  and  I  am 
preparing  for  cold  weather.  I  have  taken  my  chhota  janwar^  (little 
animal,  alias  dear  Fred's  splendid  foot-muff)  out  of  its  bag,  to  keep 
my  feet  warm  in  the  morning,  before  my  bath  is  ready.  Eiderdown 
petticoat,  etc.,  etc.  O  luxurious  Char  !  It  was  a  pleasure  to  me 
to-day  to  pay  F.,  my  new  ayah,  her  first  month's  wages  ;  there  was 
a  pleasant,  half-grateful  look  in  her  eyes.  ...  I  like  paying  wages. 

'My  last  dear  ayah  is  not  forgotten.  I  have  given  orders  for 
a  modest  little  monument  of  brick  and  mortar,  to  mark  where 
Hannah  sleeps.  We  have  no  stones  here.  I  went  to  the  cemetery 
with  the  mason,  ...  to  give  directions,  and  was  struck  by  finding 
a  tiny  but  touching  memorial  already  on  the  spot.  A  very  little 
wooden  Cross,  covered  with  paper,  to  facilitate  the  writing  of  an 
inscription.  There  was  the  date,  of  course  in  Urdu,  and  "Not 
dead,  but  sleepeth "  ;  and  "  The  Lord  gave  ;  the  Lord  hath  taken 
away  ;  blessed  be  the  Name  of  the  Lord."  This  tribute  of  love  had 
been  placed  over  his  dear  Mother's   grave  by  J.,  the  eldest  son 

1  So  named  by  the  Natives. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  443 

here,  a  lad  of  about  fourteen.  I  mean  to  keep  to  his  inscription, 
when  the  humble  monument  is  placed  over  Hannah's  dust.  Dear 
woman  !  she  was  of  the  meek  and  quiet  spirits  who  are  precious 
to  the  Lord.' 

*  Nov.  23. — The  last  mail  brought  me  letters  both  from  my  loved 
Laura  and  dear  Leila  ;  to  both  many  thanks.  My  sunstroke  was 
nothing  to  tell  you  about ;  for  though  I  was  sickening  two  days, 
the  illness  only  lasted  about  six  hours,  and  left,  thank  God,  no  dregs 
behind.  I ,  awoke  quite  serene  from  the  state  which  had  so  alarmed 
my  good  friends,  was  able  that  very  day  to  hold  a  little  Bible-meet- 
ing, and  to  go  to  my  city-work  next  day.' 

About  this  time  Mrs.  Herbert  Weitbrecht,  who  was  then 
in  England,  wrote  to  Mrs.  Hamilton,  upon  the  question  of 
Miss  Tucker  being  advised  to  go  home.  As  will  be  seen 
from  the  following  little  extract,  her  view  was  strongly 
adverse  to  this  step. 

'  For  one  thing,  the  cold,  in  which  Mrs. revels,  would  try  the 

Auntie  very  severely.  But  there  is  more  than  this.  You  know  she 
used  to  speak  very  freely  to  me  ;  and  I  have  a  strong  impression 
that  she  did  not  let  you  and  her  other  friends  at  home  know  how 
much  she  suffered  from  the  parting,  how  great  a  wrench  it  was  to 
her.  She  used  to  say  that  she  .  .  .  dreaded  above  everything  the 
thought  of  having  to  go  through  such  partings  again.' 

Probably  no  persuasions  would  have  induced  Miss 
Tucker  to  return.  She  had  steadily  made  up  her  mind 
that  in  India  she  would  live  and  die.  Unless,  indeed, 
she  should  be  called  elsewhere !  At  this  very  time  she 
was  deeply  interested  in  the  Andaman  Islands,  over  which 
her  nephew,  Major  Louis  Tucker,  had  been  appointed 
Chief  Commissioner.  On  learning  that  a  Mission  among 
the  Convicts  was  sorely  needed  there,  she  is  said  to  have 
offered  herself  for  the  purpose, — if  she  could  do  good  by 
going.  Probably  she  thought  of  it  as  merely  a  temporary 
thing;  as  inaugurating,  not  as  carrying  on  permanently, 
the  work.  But  at  her  age,  and  in  her  feeble  health,  the 
very  suggestion  shows  marvellous  courage  and  energy. 


444   LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

The  next  letter  is  about  a  difficult  case  in  England : 
a  young  Indian,  with  whom  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  ac- 
quainted : — 

^  Dec.  I. — I  have  not  answered  your  letter  about  poor  Q.  in  haste. 
I  received  it  the  day  before  yesterday.  Perhaps  you  will  not  like 
my  thoughts  ;  but  you  had  better  know  them,  sweet  sister.  .  .  . 

'It  is  a  characteristic  of  the  Native  character  to  have  little  sense 
of  sin.  A  conscience  seems  a  thing  to  be  created.  Q.  does 
not  seem  to  see  how  grievously  he  has  sinned,  is  sinning.  He  is 
clearly  denying  the  Lord  Who  bought  him  ;  and  that  for  worldly 
gain.  Darling  Laura,  have  you  quite  realised  the  greatness  of  the 
sin  .'*  To  my  view  it  was  a  mistake  to  ask  Q.  to  dinner.  "  With 
such  an  one,  no,  not  so  much  as  to  eat."  Until  Q.  deeply  repents, 
he  is  not  fit  to  sit  at  your  table.  .  .  . 

'  You  may  cite  the  Parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son.  That  is  exactly 
what  I  would  cite  for  my  view  of  the  subject.  Poor  Q.,  if 
a  son,  is  the  Prodigal  Son,  beginning  to  be  in  want,  and  hiring 
himself  out, — feeding  swine.  If,  when  he  was  longing  for  even 
husks,  he  had  been  coaxed  and  asked  out  to  dinner,  would  he  ever 
have  "  come  to  himself,"  would  he  ever  have  cried,  "  I  will  arise, 
and  go  to  my  Father.^"  Was  it  easy  for  him  to  go,  in  a  far  country, 
as  he  was  ?  Was  he  not  ready  to  sacrifice  his  pride,  and  go  amongst 
his  Father's  servants  as  a  beggar.?  If  Q.  would  have  the  Prodigal's 
reception,  he  must  do  what  the  Prodigal  did. 

'Perhaps  my  Laura  will  remind  me  of  St.  Paul's  injunction  to 
the  Corinthians  to  take  back  and  "comfort"  a  gross  sinner.  But, 
remember,  that  man  had  first  had  some  mysterious  terrible  punish- 
ment,— "  delivered  over  to  Satan  for  the  destruction  of  the  flesh," — 
and  he  was  so  deeply  penitent,  that  there  was  danger  of  his  being 
"  swallowed  up  with  overmuch  sorrow."  When  Q.  repents  like  thaf^ 
let  us  all  receive  him  and  comfort  him.' 

Some  may  count  this  letter  stern,  viewed  in  the  light  of 
modern  lax  and  easy  notions.  But  Charlotte  Tucker  knew 
what  she  was  about.  She  was  living,  at  Batala,  in  the 
First  Century  of  Christianity.  Things  would  often  be 
very  differently  viewed  by  us  in  England,  if  we  could 
see  them  from  the  standpoint  of  the  First  instead  of  the 
Nineteenth  Century. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

A.D.  1 888- 1 890 

THE   DAILY  ROUND 

The  year  1888  closed  with  another  sharp  attack  of  ill- 
ness, not  so  severe  or  so  prolonged  as  that  of  1885,  but 
sufficient  to  cause  anxiety.  On  the  i6th  of  December, 
though  '  far  from  well,'  Charlotte  Tucker  went  to  church 
as  usual ;  but  all  her  '  wraps  upon  wraps  could  not  keep 
her  from  catching  cold.'  On  the  21st,  Mr.  Bateman, 
reaching  Amritsar,  was  much  disturbed  by  the  arrival  of  a 
telegram  from  Batala,  requesting  Dr.  H.  M.  Clark  to  go  over 
immediately,  as  Miss  Tucker  was  in  high  fever.  There 
was  some  hesitation  whether  to  start  at  once  by  ekka,  or 
to  wait  for  the  early  morning  train  ;  and  the  latter  plan 
was  decided  upon.  When  Dr.  Clark  went,  Mr.  Bateman 
accompanied  him  ;  and  he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  on 
the  23  rd  : — 

'We  reached  Batala — " Sonnenschein " — together  at  10.30  yester- 
day. The  Auntie  was  reported  sleeping  without  fever.  She  woke  about 
II  ;  and  Dr.  Clark,  after  seeing  her,  telegraphed,  "No  immediate 
anxiety,"  to  Mr.  Clark,  who  on  receipt  would  decide  v^ether  to  go 
to  Batala,  or  to  come  here  (Lahore)  for  the  "Quiet  Day."  The 
Auntie  was  very  much  pleased  at  my  going  over,  and  would  not 
rest  again  till  I  had  been  into  her  room.  She  is  in  a  comfortable, 
warm  room.  To  my  uninitiated  eye  she  seemed  to  have  everything 
about  her  which  she  could  desire.  ...  As  I  passed  into  the  room 
Dr.  Clark  passed  out,  and  behind  the  screen  he  whispered,  "She 
is  all  right."     She  met  me  with  almost  a  shout  of  welcome,  and 

445 


446  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

said  a  number  of  quasi-comic  solemnities,  squeezing  my  hands  with 
great  energy.  She  was  a  little  flushed,  and  owned  that  she  was 
weak,  but  as  far  as  appearances  went  I  have  often  seen  her  look 
worse  when  in  full  work.  I  felt  very  happy  about  her;  but  Dr. 
Clark  said  that  there  was  a  blueness  and  a  twitching  about  the  lips 
which  he  did  not  like,  and  that  she  was  very  weak.  His  "All  right," 
he  said  afterwards,  meant  only,  "You  may  safely  go  in."  The  fever 
kept  off  all  day,  and  only  returned  about  four  in  the  afternoon.  .  .  . 
It  was  105  on  Friday  night.  ...  I  noticed  that  she  is  very  much  more 
amenable  to  discipline  than  before.  She  admits  that  she  can't  walk 
or  write  decently,  and  she  takes  her  medicine,  including  five  grains  of 
quinine,  every  three  hours,  very  carefully  and  with  great  docility.  .  .  .' 

One  little  remark  that  she  made  to  Mr.  Bateman  was, 
'  Thank  God,  He  has  made  me  quite  comfortable ' ; 
and  again,  '  I  don't  find  that  I  can  pray  to  God  about 
myself;  for  I  don't  know  what  to  say.' 

'  You  are  in  a  strait  betwixt  two,'  suggested  Mr.  Bateman. 

Miss  Tucker  did  not  like  this,  and  she  showed  that 
she  did  not.  Her  friend  adds,  '  I  attribute  the  slight 
twinge  it  gave  her  to  her  habitual  dislike  to  being  thought 
so  well  of,  as  that  she  might  appropriate  an  Apostolic 
utterance.' 

Another  observation  was  as  to  the  '  Quiet  Day '  in 
Lahore, — she  was  having  a  '  Quiet  Week '  given  to  her 
at  Batala  instead. 

Some  slight  memoranda  of  things  that  dropped  from 
her  were  jotted  down  at  the  time  by  Miss  Dixie.  "  Nil 
Desperandum'  was  often  quoted  in  this  and  other  ill- 
nesses ;  also  she  would  generally  try  to  sing  '  Charlie  is 
my  Darling,' — no  doubt  a  reminiscence  of  her  old  Stuart 
enthusiasm. 

With  reference  to  a  Muhammadan  school  which  had 
been  shut  some  months  before  :  *  The  Muhammadans  have 
done  us  a  good  turn !  They  have  rubbed  hard  against 
our  shield,  and  have  caused  our  motto  on  it  to  shine 
bright.' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  447 

'  My  little  musician  is  playing  all  day,'  she  said  once. 
She  was  asked,  '  What  kind  of  tunes  ? '  *  Now — "  The 
Heavens  are  Telling."  The  harmony  is  beautiful.  I  can 
hear  every  note!'  She  was  asked  again,  'Does  it  play 
on  its  own  account,  or  do  you  express  a  wish  for  special 
tunes  ? '  *  It  is  sometimes  wilful,'  Miss  Tucker  said,  *  and 
plays,  "Charlie  is  my  Darling,"  when  I  would  rather  it 
played  something  else.  It  plays  tunes  I  have  not  heard 
since  I  was  a  child, — so  correctly, — all  in  harmony  ! '  One 
of  her  favourite  hymns  in  illness  was  '  Peace,  perfect 
peace ' ; — but  she  '  did  not  like  the  last  verse  ;  it  con- 
tradicted what  went  before.' 

Happening  to  speak  about  different  kinds  of  love,  she 
observed, — *  There  is  a  passion,  not  a  love,  which  I  have 
known  some  women  to  have  for  another.  That  is  not 
wholesome ;  it  is  a  passion,  not  love.'  Again,  on  the 
question  of  bringing  others  to  Christ, — '  We  are  only  the 
housemaids  !  We  open  the  door  ;  but  they  come  in,  and 
go  themselves  up  to  the  King.' 

It  was  either  after  this  illness,  or  after  another  of  the 
same  type  that  she  said,  '  I  have  felt  that  a  beautiful 
Wing  has  been  spread  over  me,  which  is  lined  with  down 
and  stitched  with  gold  ;  and  I  am  quite  safe.  Nothing 
can  harm  me  so  long  as  I  remain  under  it ! '  Somebody 
rather  unnecessarily  remarked,  'But  it  is  our  own  fault 
if  we  do  not  remain  under  it'  '  No,'  Miss  Tucker 
replied,  'we  can't  say  that.  Satan  does  give  us  a  pull 
sometimes.'  She  was  reminded  that  God's  'favour  is 
always  towards  us ' ;  but  again  she  asserted  the  undeni- 
able truth  that  God  does  sometimes  permit  His  servants 
to  be  thus  tried. 

A  long  letter  from  herself  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  is  dated 
December  21st,  or  two  days  before  that  written  by  Mr. 
Bateman,  and  apparently  the  very  day  on  which  Dr. 
<f]lark  was  summoned  by  telegram  to  Batala.     This  must 


448  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

have  been  a  slip.  The  handwriting  is  shaky,  but  she 
speaks  of  her  illness  as  past.  With  reference  to  the 
beginning  of  the  latter,  she  says  : — 

'When  in  the  afternoon  (of  the  i6th)  it  was  evident  that  I  was 
seriously  ill,  the  effect  was  magical.  Up  went  my  spirits  like  a 
balloon, — the  curious  effect  which  severe  illness  seems  to  have 
naturally  upon  me.  .  .  .  To  be  bright  and  cheerful  in  sickness  and 
suffering  costs  me  nothing,  for  it  seems  to  come  naturally ;  but  I 
dare  say  that  I  get  credit  for  a  great  deal  of  grace.  It  is  so  difficult 
for  others,  so  difficult  for  ourselves,  to  distinguish  between  Nature 
and  Grace.' 

One  may  perhaps  add  that  it  is  also  unnecessary  to 
do  so, — unnecessary  as  regards  ourselves,  and  utterly  im- 
possible as  regards  others.  Better  to  leave  such  questions 
in  the  Hands  of  Him  with  Whom  alone  'all  things  are 
naked  and  opened.'  But  evidently  the  subject  had  been 
much  in  Miss  Tucker's  mind.  The  long  letter  is  half 
full  of  it. 

On  January  4  she  wrote  : — 

*  Now  I  dare  say  that  you  will  want  to  hear  how  I  am.  Wonder- 
fully well,  though,  of  course,  not  strong.  I  went  a  short  distance 
in  my  duli  to-day.  My  late  illness  has  quite  convinced  me  that 
God  has  given  me  a  capital  constitution.  I  had,  apparently,  so 
much  against  steady  recovery.  Yet — there  is  no  doubt  of  it — I  am 
recovering.  Except  rather  more  weakness  of  the  eyes  and  slight 
loss  of  flesh,  no  dregs  seem  left.' 

'  Batala,/^;?.  24,  1889. — Many  thanks  for  the  printed  extract  from 
good  Mr.  Clifford's  letter  about  the  cure  for  leprosy.  ...  I  dare 
say  that  it  is  a  valuable  medicine  when  properly  used  ;  but  probably 
the  secret  of  its  great  success  in  the  Andamans  is  that  it  was  tried 
on  convicts,  who  dared  not  refuse  to  rub  themselves  properly.  Mr. 
Clifford  writes  that  the  exercise  is  part  of  the  remedy ;  but  I  think 
that  it  would  be  wellnigh  impossible  to  persuade  free  lepers  to 
rub  themselves  for  four  hours  daily.  They  would  greatly  prefer 
leprosy  and  begging.  Do  you  not  know  of  the  Indian  mother  who, 
when  one  of  the  Mission  ladies  told  her  to  rub  oil  over  her  poor 
sick  child's  body,  refused  to  take  such  trouble  ?  "  I  have  another  ! " 
said  she.     With  dear  good  Father  Damien  it  would  be  different.* 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  449 

TO   MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

'■Feb.  1 6. — The  wood-pigeons  are  cooing,  the  little  peach-trees  dis- 
playing pink  blossoms,  the  fields  are  green  with  young  corn.  Perhaps 
you  will  half  envy  us  when  you  read  this  ;  but  you  would  hardly  envy 
us  six  weeks  hence.  .  .  . 

*  In  Mission  life  so  much  depends  on  one's  companions.  .  .  .  One 
must  not  expect  too  much,  for  all  Missionaries  are  fallible.  One 
should  remember  one's  own  infirmities,  and  make  allowance  for 
those  of  others.  In  India  we  seem  to  live  in  glass  houses  ;  people 
are  so  well  known  ;  such  a  one  is  quick-tempered,  such  a  one — but  you 
can  imagine  what  it  is.  There  is  little  privacy  even  in  the  dwellings. 
There  is  no  hall ;  the  upper  part  of  the  outer  door  is  glass  ;  people  see 
through,  tap,  and  walk  in.  .  .  .  India  is  a  good  place  for  preventing 
one  from  growing  stiff  and  precise,  and  determined  not  to  be  put 
out  of  one's  way.     At  Batala  especially  there  is  no  starch.' 

TO   MRS.    HAMILTON. 

''May  2. — I  could  give  you  curious  anecdotes  of  the  Ramazan,  the 
grand  Muhammadan  Fast,  which  has  now  begun.  Minnie  tells  me  of 
women  in  an  ostentatious  way  bringing  their  bottles,  as  if  for  medi- 
cine, to  the  Dispensary  ;  and  then  saying  that  they  cannot  take  it — 
it  is  their  fast.  Why  did  they  come  then  ?  To  be  admired  for  piety  ! 
Others  come,  looking  rather  piteous,  though  perhaps  not  really  ill, 
that  the  Doctor  Miss  Sahiba  m2iy  forbid  them  to  fast.  Minnie  asked 
one  woman  whether  she  fasted.  "  I  am  poor  ;  what  can  I  do?"  was  the 
helpless  reply.  One  not  acquainted  with  the  case  might  interpret  this 
as,  "  I  am  helpless — I  am  only  too  often  obliged  to  fast."  It  really  means, 
"  I  am  too  poor  to  fast."  You  might  imagine  fasting  to  be  rather  econo- 
mical. Quite  the  reverse  !  For  instance,  the whom  Minnie  em- 
ploys is  laying  out  a  whole  month's  salary  in  food  for  the  fast,  to  have 
it  extra  good.  She  will  have  two  meat  meals  every  night,  to  make  up 
for  not  eating  in  the  day.    Does  it  not  remind  one  of  the  Pharisees  ? ' 

Miss  Tucker's  birthday  this  year  was  signalised  by  the 
Baptism  of  one  of  the  servants,  and  his  whole  family, 
including  a  little  brown  baby.  After  describing  the  event 
to  her  sister,  with  great  delight,  she  added, — *  Of  course 
the  new  Christians  were  all  invited  to  the  simple  feast 
under  a  moonlit  sky,  which  dear  Babu  Singha  gave  in  my 
honour.  It  certainly  was  one  of  the  best,  if  not  the  very 
best  birthday,  kept  by  your  now  aged  but  truly  loving  Char.' 

2F 


450  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

'  May  30. — These  last  two  mornings  I  have  gone  to  help  Miss  Dixie 
by  reading  to  her  patients  in  the  waiting-room  of  her  Dispensary. 
There  should  always  be  some  one  to  read,  talk,  sing,  and  keep  order. 
Dear  good  Rosie  Singha  is  wanted  to  make  up  medicines.  I  do  not 
know  what  poor  Minnie  would  do  without  her.  ...  It  is  strange 
what  difficulty  we  have  in  getting  Native  helpers  for  her  (Miss  Dixie) 
.  .  .  You  will  have  seen  in  the  papers  that  noble  devoted  Father 
Damien  has  sunk  to  rest  ;  his  form  sleeps  in  a  leper's  grave.  What 
a  wonderful  life  and  death  was  his  ! ' 

^SlMl^P^^June  13. — Here  is  Char  in  Simla,  the  queen  city  of  the 
mountain  ;  but  I  do  not  think  that  I  shall  see  much  of  it.  I  have  a 
nice  quiet  walk  near,  commanding  a  noble  view  ;  and  I  go  backwards 
and  forwards  along  it,  not  troubling  myself  at  all  with  climbing  or 
sight-seeing.  The  air  is  very  pure  and  fine  ;  so  I  drink  it  in,  and  if 
anything  is  to  give  strength  it  ought  to  do  so.  .  .  .  There  seems  to 
be  a  great  deal  of  etiquette  here, — people  placed  exactly  according 
to  rank  at  the  grand  parties.  ...  I  do  not  care  much  for  what  are 
really  trifles,  and  am  thankful  that  I  have  not  to  go  out  and  be  gay. 
I  make  the  most  of  my  age,  which  enables  me,  as  it  were,  to  sit 
quietly  in  a  corner,  and  not  even  take  the  fatigue  of  rounds  of  visits. 
A  lady  had  paid  sixteen  in  one  day,  she  said.  Evidently,  it  is  a 
matter  of  congratulation  to  find  friends  (?)  not  at  home.  .  .  .  We 
take  our  meals  at  a  table  d'hote,  happily  a  quiet  one.  I  sit  between 
Louis  and  Lettie,  so  hardly  speak  to  any  one  else,  for  I  am  shy  of 
conversing  across  the  table.' 

''July  18. — Your  "running  about,"  love,  has  been  on  a  milder  scale 
than  mine.  On  Friday  last,  knowing  that  I  was  to  rise  at  about 
3  A.M.  (after  a  dinner-party  at  the  C.'s),  I  did  not  entirely  undress. 
Miss  Warren  and  I  started  on  our  long  journey  downhill  by  the  dim 
light  of  a  clouded  moon.  Laziness  might  have  made  us  miss  the 
evening  train,  for  we  had  nearly  a  hundred  miles'  drive,  in  a  succes- 
sion of  vehicles,  to  reach  it ;  and  we  knew  not  what  the  state  of 
the  road  might  be. 

'  Vehicles,  did  I  write  ?  Would  you  call  an  elephant  a  vehicle  ? 
We  came  to  a  place  where  there  was  a  good  deal  of  water  ;  the  Gogra 
swollen  by  the  rains.  We  were  requested  to  quit  the  heavy  gari,  and 
go  across  on  an  elephant.  The  nice  docile  creature  knelt  down  ;  and 
a  man  actually  wished  us  to  clamber  up  by  its  tail  !  He  grasped  it,  so 
as  to  form  a  kind  of  loop  for  me  to  put  my  foot  in  !  But  I  objected 
to  this  method  of  mounting,  and  managed  to  scramble  up  by  means 
of  a  kind  of  big  bag  hung  across  the  animal.     There  was  no  saddle 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  451 

or  howdah  ;  but  the  beast's  back  was  broad,  its  pace  gentle,  and  we 
held  on  by  ropes  fastened  across  the  elephant.  The  good  creature 
well  deserved  the  two  biscuits  with  which  it  was  rewarded.' 

The  following  letter  was  with  respect  to  two  young 
Indians,  in  whom  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  been  much  interested. 
One  might  hesitate  to  quote  it,  in  fear  of  giving  pain  to 
the  really  true-hearted  among  Indian  Christians  ;  but 
they  are  not  referred  to  !  It  seems  necessary  to  show  that 
Miss  Tucker,  despite  her  readiness  always  to  think  the 
best  of  people,  was  by  no  means  always  easily  taken  in  ; 
and  that  she  gained  wisdom  through  sad  experience  : — 

'  Batala,  y/<r/j/  31. — I  have  received  the  following  reply  from 

about  that  Native  in  whom  you  have  so  long  taken  kindly,  I  fear 
little  merited,  interest.  You  do  not  yet,  darling,  know  how  little  it 
costs  Indians  to  write  or  speak  in  a  way  to  please.  They  deceive 
even  old  experienced  Missionaries.  .  .  . 

'  It  seems  almost  cruel  to  throw  cold  water  on  my  Laura's  warm 
generous  feelings,  but  I  confess  to  an  impression  that  Natives  try  to 
deceive  one  so  much  more  pure-minded  and  honest  than  themselves. 
We  get  so  grievously  deceived  and  disappointed  here,  where  we  have 
much  better  opportunities    of  judging.      But    I    hope    that    your 

may  prove  one  of  the  real  jewels  which  are — though  not  so  often 

as  we  could  wish — to  be  found  amongst  Orientals. 

^  Aug.  I. — Yesterday's  post  brought  me  a  loving  letter  from  my 

Laura.  ...  A  man  ^  whom  my  Laura  calls  "  my  friend, ,"  ought  to 

turn  out  a  fine  fellow  at  last.  Of  course  I  cannot  judge  if  the  going 
to  Paris  will  be  good  or  not.  I  do  not  like  hiding  colours  when  a  man 
has  been  baptized.  With  secret  believers  some  indulgence  is  some- 
times needed  ;  but  after  Baptism,  it  seems  to  me  that  to  pass  for  a  Mu- 
hammadan  is  a  sign — of  danger  at  least.  But  you  will  talk  over  the 
subject  with  Rowland.  Five  minutes  with  him  will  be  better  than  five 
long  letters  from  me.  O  my  Laura,  I  have  so  learned  to  mistrust  my- 
self, my  judgment,  my  disposition  ;  and  I  have  been  particularly  tried 
this  year  by  inconsistency  in  those  of  whom  I  had  thought  highly.' 

TO  MISS  MINNIE  DIXIE. 

'■Aug.  17,  1889. 
'J.  D.,  exemplary  young  man,  has  put  all  three  harmoniums  to 
rights.     He  says  that  the  largest  has  223  tongues,  and  that  25  were 
1  Not  the  same  as  spoken  of  in  earlier  part  of  this  letter. 


452  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

dumb.  Perhaps  I  have  not  given  the  numbers  quite  correctly,  but 
nearly  so.  A  live  scorpion  was  found  in  our  drawing-room  instru- 
ment. It  cleverly  managed  to  get  away,  but  was  happily  found  and 
killed.  There  was  a  regularly-conducted  Batala  Feast  yesterday, 
given  by  M.  in  honour  of  Baby  Baring's  second  birthday.  As  I 
walked  towards  the  Singhas,  I  spoke  with  regret  of  the  nice  old- 
fashioned  feasts,  which  seem  to  have  gone  out,  when  every  one  sat  on 
the  ground.  Pleased  was  I  to  behold  the  cloth  laid  in  the  verandah, 
with  no  tables  !  We  were  to  have  an  old-fashioned  feast,  after  all. 
And  a  very  nice  one  it  was  !  About  forty  partook  of  it.  To-day  my 
nephew  gives  a  smaller  party  in  honour  of  his  dear  wife's  birthday.' 

TO  THE  REV.    F.    H.   BARING. 

'•Nov.  14,  1889. 
'  I  must  give  you  good  news.  Another  sheaf  laid,  by  God's  grace, 
on  our  Mission  Plough.  A  nice  gentlemanly  young  Brahmin  from 
that  school,  K.  K.,  openly  received  Baptism  in  the  large  Church  last 
Sunday.  As  notice  had  been  given  to  his  family,  there  was  such  a 
tamasha  as  I  had  never  seen  in  Batala  before.  Crowds  gathered 
behind  the  extempore  barricade  to  divide  off  the  heathen  in  the 
Church — line  above  line  of  turbaned  heads  ;  and  the  doors  were 
thronged.  Without  exaggeration,  there  must  have  been  at  least  200 
people,  besides  us  Christians.  R.  C,  K.  B.,  and  A.  B.  (all  converts) 
made  very  dashing  daring  extempore  policemen  to  keep  the  Hindus 
from  swarming  in.  The  font  was  very  near  the  sort  of  barricade  ; 
so  our  young  candidate  had  to  face  the  crowd, — amongst  them 
one  or  two  angry  members  of  his  family, — at  the  distance  of  only 
about  two  yards ;  but  he  bore  himself  like  a  hero,  giving  all 
his  answers  in  a  clear  distinct  tone.  The  most  exciting  part 
was  getting  our  lad  out  of  the  church  and  safe  off!  The  Hindus 
tried  to  stop  and  make  the  horse  back  ;  our  boys  pushed  on  behind 
with  energy  ;  and  at  last  the  tum-tum  was  off  and  away.  I  would 
not  have  missed  the  scene  for  something.' 

Before  entering  on  the  correspondence  of  1890,  the 
following  verses  may  be  given,  written  in  the  course  of 
that  year  for  Batala  boys  ;  spirited  in  style  as  ever,  though 
Charlotte  Tucker  was  now  verging  on  the  age  of 
seventy  :— 

A  GENTLEMAN. 

'  What  is  it  makes  a  Gentleman  ?    'Tis  not  his  high  estate, 
His  liveried  footmen,  or  the  grooms  that  on  his  orders  wait, — 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  453 

The  horses  and  the  carriages  that  stand  before  his  gate, 
The  tenants  who  bow  low  to  him,  and  think  him  very  great. 
Chorus — 
These  do  not  make  the  Gentleman,  whate'er  his  station  be  ! 

'What  is  it  makes  a  Gentleman  ?    Not  colour  of  his  skin,— 
The  Negro,  black  as  ebony,  may  yet  be  fair  within  ; 
The  weak,  the  lowly,  and  the  poor,  a  glorious  race  may  win, — 
There's  nothing  makes  a  man  so  low  as  cowardice  and  sin  ! 
Chorus — 

He  cannot  be  a  Gentleman,  whate'er  his  station  be  ! 

'What  is  it  makes  a  Gentleman  ?     His  dress  is  not  the  sign, — 
Though  on  each  finger  of  each  hand  a  jewelled  ring  may  shine  ; 
His  necktie  may  be  elegant — his  boots  be  superfine — 
Howe'er  you  dress  a  monkey,  Sir,  he  is  no  friend  of  mine. 
Chorus — 
He  cannot  be  a  Gentleman,  whate'er  his  station  be  ! 

'  The  real  Gentleman  is  he  whose  aims  are  pure  and  high  ; 
Who  scorns  a  base  dishonest  act,  and  tramples  on  a  lie  ; 
Who  treats  the  woman  and  the  child  with  gentle  courtesy. 
Who  holds  the  Christian's  faith  and  hope,  so  does  not  fear  to  die  ! 
Chorus — 
He  is  the  real  Gentleman,  whate'er  his  station  be  ! ' 

All  these  years,  off  and  on,  Charlotte  Tucker's  pen  had 
been  at  work ;  and  probably  nothing  that  she  ever  wrote 
was  of  greater  importance  than  the  many  tiny  little  book- 
lets for  translation  into  the  various  languages  of  India. 
After  being  composed  by  her  in  English  they  were 
rendered  by  competent  persons  into  Urdu,  Panjabi,  Hindi, 
Bengali,  Tamil,  and  were  published  at  exceedingly  low 
prices,  to  be  sold  by  hundreds  of  thousands  among  the 
Natives  of  the  country.  Many  were  brought  out  by  the 
Christian  Literature  Society  for  India,  many  more  by  the 
Punjab  Religious  Book  Society.  A  small  report  of  the 
latter  Society,  so  early  as  about  iZj'j-jZ^  speaks  of  thirty- 
seven  of  A.  L.  O.  E.'s  tiny  booklets  as  already  published, 
and  of  fresh  editions  being  in  some  cases  already  called 
for.     A  letter  to  her  English  Publishers,  Messrs.  Nelson 


454  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

&  Sons,  early  in  1890,  gives  interesting  information  on  the 
subject : — 

'Batala,  Jan.  18,  1890. 

'  I  am  much  pleased  to  hear  that  Beyond  the  Black  Waters  is  out 
at  last,  and  return  you  many  thanks  for  the  copies  for  presentation, 
kindly  sent  for  me. 

'  The  subject  of  "  cheap  editions  "  of  works  published  long  ago  is  of 
great  interest  to  me.  I  am  living  in  an  immense  country,  swarming 
with  Muhammadans,  Hindus,  and  Infidels,  where  Government  is 
educating  tens  of  thousands  of  lads,  without  giving  them  any  religious 
instruction.  .  .  .  An  evident  breakwater  for  the  waves  of  impiety  and 
sedition  is  religious  literature.  But  it  must  be  very  cheap,  or  hardly 
any  Natives  will  buy  it.  I  saw  long  ago  in  a  Report  of  the  Christian 
Vernacular  Society,  that  for  one  book  costing,  if  I  remember  rightly, 
about  threepence,  forty  are  sold  costing  a  pie,  less  than  a  farthing.^ 
I  resolved  to  write  one-pie  stories  ;  did  so  ;  and  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands  have  been  sold. 

'  A  lady  here  has  told  me  that  The  Young  Pilgrim  is  out  of  print  ; 
she  has  vainly  attempted  to  buy  it.  A  cheap  edition  of  that  might, 
by  God's  blessing,  be  useful  in  India.  Good  paper  is  not  needed  ; 
but  clear  type  and  a  bright  cover, — not  pink,  as  that  soon  fades  in  India. 

'  As  I  went  along  in  my  duli,  a  kind  of  square  box  carried  by  men, 
to-day,  to  visit  villages,  I  thought  that  the  Giant-Killer — only  the 
parable  part,  which  would  make  a  very  moderate-sized  book — might 
have  a  large  circulation  here.  Natives  like  parables  ;  and  though  the 
English  portion  of  the  volume,  describing  the  Roby  family,  might  not 
be  suited  to  Oriental  readers,  Giant  Sloth,  Selfishness,  etc.,  are  quite 
as  troublesome  in  India  as  in  England.  Would  you  like  to  make  an 
experiment  with  this  small  publication  ?  If  so,  I  should  gladly  myself 
purchase  for  poor  India  ^10  of  cheap  copies, — not  more  than  six- 
pence each, — to  be  sent  as  from  me  to  the  Christian  Vernacular 
Society's  House,  Madras.  As  soon  as  I  heard  of  the  parcel  being 
shipped,  I  would  send  the  cheque.' 

When  Miss  Tucker  was  first  starting  for  India,  her 
brother,  Mr.  Henry  Carre  Tucker,  had  written  to  her  upon 
the  subject  of  literature  for  that  land  ;  and  a  short  quota- 
tion from  his  letter  may  be  appropriately  given  here. 
'  The  great  thing  at  present,'  he  wrote,  '  is  to  disseminate 

1  More  strictly,  about  one-twelfth  of  a  penny. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  455 

widely  Christian  Vernacular  Literature  in  all  the  languages, 
and  suitable  to  the  requirements  of  all  classes,  men,  women, 
and  children ;  rich  and  poor ;  educated  and  ignorant. 
Government  is  rapidly  teaching  most  of  the  boys  to  read. 
We  Christians  must  provide  them  with  a  wholesome 
literature.  Few  women  and  girls  can  be  reached  person- 
ally, but  books  penetrate  everywhere,  and  may  do  an 
untold  amount  of  secret  silent  good.  The  preparation  and 
distribution  of  such  Literature  ought  to  be  your  great 
object.  You  might  organise  Female  Colporteurs  for  the 
Zenanas  and  womenkind.'  This  last  suggestion  Miss 
Tucker  does  not  seem  ever  to  have  taken  up,  or  attempted 
to  carry  out. 

Books  for  English  readers  still  went  on  appearing  from 
time  to  time.  In  1885  she  published  Pictures  of  St.  Paul; 
and  in  1886  Pictures  of  St.  Peter  followed.  In  1887  came 
The  Fairy  in  a  Wed,  and  Driven  into  Exile.  The  year 
1888  also  saw  two — The  Hartley  Brothers,  and  Harold's 
Bride,  both  being  continuations  of  the  two  Picture  volumes, 
named  above.  In  1889  Beyond  the  Black  Waters  was 
brought  out ;  in  1 890  The  Blacksmith  of  Boniface  Lane ; 
in  1 89 1  The  Iron  Chain  and  the  Golden  ;  and  in  1 892  The 
Forlorn  Hope.  When  one  considers  her  age,  her  failing 
health,  and  her  ceaseless  Zenana  toil,  one  cannot  but 
be  astonished  at  the  mental  energy  shown  in  getting 
through  such  an  amount  of  writing  as  this. 

On  the  17th  of  February  Miss  Maria  Hoernle  left 
Batala,  with  the  purpose  of  soon  proceeding  to  England  ; 
and  Miss  Tucker  wrote  next  day  : — 

'  So  closes  a  leaf  of  my  life  ;  for  I  doubt  whether  I  shall  again  see 
on  Earth  one  who  nursed  me  too  devotedly  in  1885.  Maria  prefers 
Bengal  to  the  Panjab  ;  so,  if  she  return,  we  have  hardly  a  chance  of 
meeting,  unless  perhaps  at  some  Hill-Station.  ...  I  wonder  if  my 
dear  Bhatija  Francis  Baring  will  ever  return  to  India.  He  was  for 
long  my  sole  European  companion.  .  .  .  Think  of  sixty-five  Com- 
municants last  Sunday  in  Batala  !     We  never  had  so  many  before. 


456  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

.  .  .  The   Bishop  was  pleased, — though  tired  by  his  village   tour, 
seeing  the  seven  little  congregations  of  the  Batala  district.' 

'  March  7. — You  must  not  think  of  converts,  love,  as  the  fruits  of  my 
labour,  but  that,  by  God's  blessing,  of  others.  I  have  so  many 
Zenanas  and  villages,  with  limited  strength,  that  hardly  one  place 
gets  more  than  one  visit  from  me  in  a  month,  some  not  even  that ! 
My  employment  is  trying  to  pull  up  weeds  that  cumber,  and  to  sow 
good  seed  ;  but  I  hare  no  time  to  water^ — or  very  little,  so  far  as 
Zenanas  are  concerned.' 

The  8th  of  May,  Miss  Tucker's  sixty-ninth  birthday, 
passed  quietly,  without  the  usual  feasting,  on  account  of 
the  death,  three  days  before,  of  Babu  Singha's  wife,  who, 
as  Miss  Tucker  wrote, — '  fell  asleep  in  Jesus,'  after  some 
twenty-eight  years  of  happy  married  life.  The  letter  of 
May  8  is  very  full  of  sympathy  with  the  bereaved  husband 
and  the  nine  children.  In  the  latter  half  of  the  same 
letter,  finished  next  day,  comes  the  mention  of  '  another 
book '  just  written.  '  I  am  making  out  the  fair  copy  in 
my  seventieth  year.  I  have  regarded  Beyond  the  Black 
Waters  as  my  chrysanthemum,  a  winter  plant,  lingering  on 
even  till  December.  But  my  Blacksmith  of  Boniface  Lane 
must  be  a  little  sprig  of  holly.  It  has  its  prickles  and  its 
red  berries.  It  has  a  historical — I  suppose  that  I  should 
say — root,  not  basis.' 

TO  MISS  '  LEILA  '  HAMILTON. 

fune  4,  1890. 
'  We  had  a  very  uncommon  visitor,  who  came  at  about  4  a.m.  on  the 
istofjune.  I  do  not  think  that  he  ever  came  before.  What  say  you  to 
a  Bagh-i-bilae,  or  Tiger-cat?  He  wanted  to  steal  Miss  Dixie's  chickens, 
but  lost  his  own  life, — six  men  succeeding  in  the  difficult  task  of  killing 
the  fierce  beast.  We  have  kept  his  skin,  which  measures  three  feet 
five  inches  from  the  tip  of  the  nose  to  the  end  of  his  rather  shabby 
tail ;  so  you  see  that  he  was  a  remarkable  cat.  The  colour  pale  grey, 
with  a  darker  stripe  down  the  back.  There  must  have  been  another 
curious  visitor,  and  one  who  also  left  his  skin,  but  without  giving  any 
one  the  trouble  of  killing  him.  The  day  after  the  death  of  the  Bagh- 
i-bilae,  Minnie  found  in  her  bath-room  the  overcoat  of  a  snake  about 
four  feet  long.  He  has  made  us  a  present  of  it ;  for  there  is  no  use 
in  advertising  for  the  owner  of  the  skin.     He  gives  it  us  gratis  ! ' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  457 

TO  MRS.  HAMILTON. 

'  MURREE,  June  27,  1890. 

'  This  day  fortnight  I  expect  to  start  on  my  long  journey  to  Batala. 
. . .  Life  in  a  large  Hill-Station  is  hardly  congenial  to  an  old  Missionary. 
It  is  curious  \iovf  poverty  is  pleaded  here  by  the  gay  and  fashionable, 
who  live  in  goodly  houses,  entertain  elegantly,  ride  nice  horses,  dress 
well,  etc.  "  Every  one  is  poor  at  Murree," — that  is  to  say,  when  money 
is  required  for  religious  or  charitable  purposes.  L.  is  collecting  for 
Lady  Dufferin's  Fund  ;  a  rich  man's  response  was  that  the  journey  to 
Murree  had  cost  him  so  much  !  The  poor  Chaplain  complained 
from  the  pulpit  of  the  shabby  collections  for  the  Lahore  Cathedral.' 

In  her  letter  of  July  2  she  wrote, — having  been  told  of 
shaking  her  head  in  Church  at  something  that  she  dis- 
approved,— '  I  am  trying  to  cure  myself  of  that  trick.'  It 
had  grown  to  be  so  frequent  a  habit,  that  one  of  her 
younger  companions  had  already  mentioned  the  tendency. 
If  anything  was  said  which  she  did  not  quite  like,  or  even 
if  in  thought  she  recurred  to  something  which  she 
regretted,  she  would  say  nothing,  but  would  sit  silent, 
gently  shaking  her  head.  On  being  remonstrated  with,  she 
showed  no  annoyance,  but  at  once  said  cheerfully, — '  When 
I  shake  my  head,  you  must  rap  the  table  ! '  The  genuine 
humility  of  this  answer  is  even  more  remarkable  than  the 
fact  that,  at  her  age,  she  should  soon  have  entirely  over- 
come the  peculiarity. 

On  July  16  she  described  herself  as  '  in  a  frisky  mood, 
on  account  of  getting  back  to  Batala,  and  finding  things 
so  nice  here,  weather  included  ; ' — and  a  little  later,  '  It  is 
so  nice  to  be  amongst  my  brown  Christian  boys  again  ! ' 

''Aug.  22,  1890. — I  must  amuse  you  and  dear  Leila  by  a  little 
Oriental  episode.  A  nice  simple  young  widow,  called  W.,  is  being 
prepared  for  Baptism.  Female  converts,  who  have  not  husbands, 
are  specially  welcome,  as  there  is  a  great  difficulty  to  poorer 
Christians  about  getting  wives.  Even  before  W.'s  baptism,  there- 
fore,   wished  to  secure  her  for  a  favourite  convert.     I  spoke  for 

him  to  W.,  and  she  consented  just  to  see  M.  N.,  being  assured  that, 
if  either  she  or  he  were  not  satisfied,  there  should  be  no  marriage. 


458  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

As  we  are  very  proper  here,  the  important  interview  took  place  in  my 
presence ;  but  I  went  a  little  aside,  so  as  to  be  no  gine.  The  man 
seemed  very  sensible  and  nice.  He  began  religious  conversation  at 
once,  questioning  the  girl  to  whom  he  was  paying  his  addresses,  as 
a  Pastor  might  have  done  with  a  candidate  for  baptism. 

'So  long  as  the  wooer  kept  to  this,  all  appeared  going  on  well. 
M.  N.  questioned,  and  W.  answered  in  her  simple  innocent  fashion. 
But  when  something  more  personal  was  said, — I  did  not  hear  what, 
but  I  suppose  that  its  gist  was,  "Will  you  marry  me?"— I  felt  that 
there  was  some  sticking,  and  came  to  the  rescue.  I  asked  W.  if  she 
were  willing ;  and  a  little  in  the  spirit,  though  not  in  the  words  of 
the  old  song — 

'  "Amazed  was  the  laird,  when  the  lady  said — '  Na  ! '  " 

'  I  was  surprised,  and  so  I  think  was  the  visitor.  I  asked  again, 
to  make  sure  ;  and  again  came  a  quiet  decided  negative.  So  of 
course  I  let  "Mistress  Jean"  "turn  awa'."  .  .  .  W.  has  a  perfect 
right  to  say  "  Na,"  if  she  prefer  a  life  of  sewing,  grinding  corn,  etc., 
to  trying  matrimony  a  second  time.  I  like  her  the  better  for  her 
independent  spirit.' 

''Aug.  28. — I  think  that  this  August  has  been  the  pleasantest 
month  that  I  have  spent  this  year.  The  temperature,  quite  unusually 
mild  for  August,  suits  me  admirably;  for  my  idea  of  a  perfect 
temperature  is  from  80°  to  85°  in  the  house.  It  is  getting  into  the  9o°s 
that  is  trying.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  sickness  about  from  damp, 
but  damp  does  not  appear  to  hurt  me,  and  it  makes  the  air  so  soft.' 

''Sept.  12. — I  have  written  through  dear  Leila  my  triple  thanks  for 
the  very  elegant  tasteful  dress  and  pretty  jacket.  The  cloud  I  am 
keeping  for  Minnie,  whom  I  hope  to  see  back  on  Tuesday.  The 
women  in  Batala  will  be  so  glad  to  have  the  "Star"  open  again. 
Dear  sweet  Daisy  Key  and  I  will  be  glad  too  to  have  the  doctoring 
in  the  compound  taken  off  our  hands.  Some  one  or  other  seems  to 
be  perpetually  ill.  Castor-oil  and  quinine  have  to  be  freely  used. 
Happily  both  are  easily  procured,  especially  the  first.  .  .  . 

'As  I  was  walking  in  the  city  early  one  morning,^  a  party  of 
Government  schoolboys  passed  me,  marching  in  order,  in  evident 
imitation  of  our  Christian  boys.  A  minute  or  two  afterwards  a  very 
respectable-looking  middle-aged  Native,  probably  their  master,  ran 
after  me.  I  halted,  to  know  what  he  wanted ;  and  something  like 
this  curious  conversation  passed  between  us,  in  English, — 

1  Miss  Tucker  had  become  by  this  time  less  strict  in  her  earlier  rule  of  never 
walking  in  the  city. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  459 

'  Master.  "  I  beg  your  pardon.  Do  you  pronounce  opiate  or 
opiate  ? " 

*I.  "Opiate." 

'  M.  "  Who  were  the  Jacobins  ?" 

'  I.  "  Bad  men,  who  cut  off  other  people's  heads." 

'  M.  "  Were  they  Roman  Catholics  or  Protestants  ? " 

'  I.  "  Neither.     They  had  no  religion," 

'  M.  "  Were  Jacobins  connected  with  Jacobites  ? " 

'  I.  "  No  ;  those  were  followers  of  King  James." 

'  M.  "One  more — what  is  'Black  eye/ — 'give  a  black  eye?'  I 
cannot  find  it  in  the  dictionary." 

'  To  this  funny  question  also  I  gave  a  brief  answer,  and  then  my 
volunteer  pupil  left  me, — I  hope  satisfied  with  his  lesson.' 

''Oct.  14,  1890. — The  shadow  of  consumption  which  may  end 
fatally  is  on  two  dear  Native  Christians  here.  One  is  R.  U.,  a  well- 
educated  Convert  from  Narowal,  who  has  suffered  much  for  the  Faith. 
The  other  is  dear  Babu  Singha's  youngest  daughter,  Bini.  The 
death  of  her  loved  mother  in  May  was  a  terrible  shock  to  Bini. 
Babu  Singha,  a  most  tender  father,  has  gently  intimated  to  his 
darling  child  that  perhaps  she  may  be  the  first  to  see  that  dear 
mother  again.    Bini  is  quite  pleased  at  the  thought.  .  .  . 

'But  oh,  Laura,  we  have  had  in  our  Mission  lately  something 
worse,  oh,  so  much  worse  !  It  has  been  as  startling  as  a  sudden 
thunder-clap.  K.  K.,  the  young  Brahmin,  over  whose  baptism  we  so 
rejoiced,  who  seemed  so  brave,  so  true,  who  sat  at  our  table  .  .  .  and 
actually  has  been  employed  to  teach  the  Bible^  .  .  .  he  has  apostatised  ; 
he  has  become  a  fearful  illustration  of  our  Lord's  most  terrible 
parable, — "then  taketh  he  (Satan)  others  more  wicked  than  himself," 
etc.  I  am  beginning  to  believe  that  this  wilful  apostasy,  after  clear 
light  given,  is  what  is  spoken  of  in  Heb.  vi.  I  can  remember  no 
example,  either  in  the  Bible  or  Mission-life,  of  any  apostate  deliber- 
ately choosing  to  forsake  Christ,  after  being  received  and  welcomed, 
being  "renewed  unto  repentance."  We  have  had  so  many  dreadful 
backsliders, — who  have  never  returned.  Alas  !  alas  !  .  .  .  In  ho  case 
fear  the  motive,  but  worldliness  or  covetousness.  When  to  my 
surprise  I  heard  that  K.  K.  had  fallen,  my  spirit  could  not  readily 
recover.  .  .  .  Poor  dear  N.  C.  began  his  sermon  on  Sunday 
something  like  this, — "  My  spirit  is  heavy ;  I  am  very  sorrowful." 
It  was  a  brave  sermon,  nevertheless,  about  "holding  the  fort."  But 
now  he  is  the  only  Christian  teacher  in  his  school ;  and  we  have  to 
face  the  mockery  of  the  exulting  foe  !     The  matter  is  of  course  known 


46o    LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

all  over  the  city.  But  the  Lord  reigns,  and  all  enemies  ^zS\.—must 
— be  put  under  His  Feet.  Amongst  those  who  will  rejoice  will  be 
those  who  are  saddened  now,  like  your  loving  Char.' 

*  Oct.  25. — I  want  to  tell  you  and  dear  Leila  about  the  trial  in  the 
Singha  family,  but  wish  to  wait  till  I  have  had  to-day's  report  of  the 
state  of  Bini,  the  dear  girl  about  fifteen,  who  appears  to  be  dying  of 
consumption.  Bini  has  perhaps  never  recovered  from  the  effects 
of  the  shock  caused  to  her  loving  heart  by  her  mother,  Mrs.  Singha's, 
unexpected  death.  The  poor  child,  arriving  at  the  Batala  station, 
heard  suddenly  that  her  mother  was  dead. 

*  Later. — I  have  just  come  from  the  Singhas.  Bini  lingers  still  on 
this  side  of  the  river.  She  is  more  to  be  envied  than  pitied.  On 
Thursday,  two  days  ago,  her  pain  ceased.  .  .  .  She  was  "  quite  happy," 
"quite  ready,"  "why  delay?"  .  .  .  Last  night  must  have  been  a 
glorious  night  for  Bini.  She  spoke  to  this  effect, — "  I  have  been  in 
Heaven,  and  saw  Jesus  Christ  and  my  Mother.  I  did  not  see  the 
others;  they. were  there,  but  somewhere  upstairs.^"*  When  some  one 
spoke  to  Bini  of  her  "  dream,"  she  did  not  like  the  word.  "  It  was  not 
a  dream,"  she  said.  .  .  .  If  this  be  death,  it  is  a  blessed  thing  indeed!' 

''Oct.  31. — You  will  see  from  my  note  to  dear  Mr.  Baring  that 
sweet  Bini's  long  trial  is  over.  With  what  joy  she  departed  !  I  am 
telling  the  story  in  villages  and  Zenanas.  She  who  had  so  little 
opportunity  of  working  for  God  in  her  brief  life,  bears  powerful 
testimony  now  by  her  death  to  Muhammadan  and  Hindu.  To  go 
joyously,  in  the  morning  of  her  life,  to  death,  as  to  a  bridal, — this  is  a 
proof  of  the  truth  and  power  of  Christianity,  which  who  can  gainsay  ? 
I  went  on  the  day  of  Bini's  departure  to  three  Zenanas,  which  bigotry 
has  closed.  I  asked  no  leave  but  went  in, — I  was  pretty  sure  of  a 
hearing,  when  I  went  to  describe  the  death  of  Babu  Singha's  daughter. 

^  What  a  contrast  between  Christianity  and  Muhammadanism, 
Hinduism,  any  other  religion  !  As  Bini  lay  near  her  pure  white 
coffin,  with  flowery  Crosses  above  her,  a  party  of  the  rather  upper, 
educated  men  of  Batala  came  to  pay  customary  respect  to  the 
bereaved  father.  They  were  taken  right  up  to  where  the  white-clad 
form  lay  peacefully  on  a  charpai.  ...  At  Bini's  funeral  the  contrast 
was  most  striking  ;  for  as  the  white  flowery  coffin  was  carried  to  its 
resting-place,  we  all  singing  hymns  of  praise,  the  Hindus  were — 
about  fifty  yards  to  the  left  of  us — burning  a  corpse.  To  the  right, 
flowers  and  music  ;  to  the  left,  fire.  The  miserable  wail  of  the 
heathen  over  their  dead  was  not  then  heard  ;  only  our  hymns,  and 
then  beautiful  words  uttered  over  a  peaceful  grave.' 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

A.D.  18901 891 

IN    OLD  AGE 

Letters  at  this  late  period  of  Miss  Tucker's  life  become 
so  abundant,  from  numerous  quarters,  that  the  main 
difficulty  is  in  selection,  the  main  cause  of  regret  is  that 
so  few  can  be  used.  The  history  of  1891  and  1892  may 
be  told  chiefly  by  Miss  Tucker's  details  of  what  went  on. 
Miss  Dixie  remained  her  constant  companion  in  the  little 
Mission  bungalow  all  these  years, — except  when  absent 
for  her  summer  holiday,  or  on  furlough.  Others  came 
and  went,  remaining  a  longer  or  a  shorter  time  in  Batala. 
Dr.  Weitbrecht  had  settled  down  as  C.M.S.  Missionary  in 
the  place ;  and  Mr.  Bateman,  stationed  at  Narowal,  came 
and  went  on  itinerating  expeditions. 

Charlotte  Tucker  still  lived  her  life  of  rigid  simplicity ; 
though  perhaps  certain  indulgences,  immaterial  when  she 
was  younger  and  in  more  vigorous  health,  had  now 
become  a  positive  necessity.  Long  Indian  toil,  as  well  as 
sharp  illnesses,  had  told  upon  her ;  and  at  seventy  she  had 
every  appearance  of  being  ninety.  Yet,  through  weakness, 
weariness,  and  languor,  she  struggled  on,  and  kept  up  her 
steady  round  of  work. 

The  little  '  Sunset '  house,  in  which  she  lived,  consisted 
mainly  of  the  following :  bath-room,  size  8  feet  by  8 ; 
dressing-room,  size  1 3  feet  by  8  ;  the  one  large  principal 
room,  size  24  feet  by  13,  divided  by  a  screen  into  bedroom 

461 


462  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

and  sitting-room ;  and  the  verandahs.  Miss  Tucker's 
chief  room  has  been  described  to  me  by  one  who  spent 
months  at  Batala,  as,  at  this  date, — '  Rather  bare  and 
shabby,  and  used  to  have  rather  an  untidy  look.  ...  As 
you  went  in  from  the  verandah  in  front,  the  fireplace  was 
on  your  left,  and  a  sofa,  with  a  screen  behind  it,  screening 
off  the  bed,  on  your  right.  In  front  of  you  was  the  little 
table,  where  she  used  to  write.  I  cannot  remember  all  of 
the  furniture ;  there  was  not  very  much, — I  think  some 
shelves  on  each  side  of  the  fireplace.' 

This  does  not  sound  too  luxurious.  No  doubt  Miss 
Tucker  might,  without  expense,  have  made  her  rooms  much 
prettier,  but  for  her  passion  for  giving  away.  She  seldom 
kept  for  herself  more  than  was  imperatively  needed. 
While  on  this  subject,  it  may  be  worth  remarking,  as 
regards  the  food  of  the  Missionary  ladies  in  Batala,  that  the 
cost  of  it  has  been  found  to  amount,  on  an  average,  to  about 
eight  annas  a  day, — an  anna  being  worth  rather  less  than 
a  penny.  The  said  estimate  applies  to  an  ordinary  time, 
including  a  certain  amount  of  entertaining  of  visitors.  Pro- 
bably the  cost  would  be  much  the  same  in  other  parts  of 
the  Panjab,  unless  it  were  slightly  more  in  large  Stations. 

A  few  scattered  sentences  from  the  Journal  may 
precedis  the  letters  of  1891  : — 

'•April  30,  1889. — Villages.  .  .  .  Sikh  bibi  very  nice.  I  said,  "I 
am  very  weak.  If  you  heard  that  I  died,  what  would  you  say  1 " 
Reply  :  "  Gone  to  Jesus  !  Gone  to  Heaven  ! "  After  a  while  I 
asked,  "Were  I  to  hear  of  your  death,  what  should  I  say?"  A  little 
delay  ;  then  a  bibi  observed  on  the  kirpa,  mercy,  of  Jesus,  and 
thought  that  He  might  take  them  too.' 

^ Aug.  31. — "Faint,  yet  pursuing,"  must  be  my  motto.     The  two 

boys  from  ,  who  came  to  Anarkalli,  as  if  resolved  to  embrace 

Christianity,  but,  being  without  root,  left  us  again,  seem  to  have  done 
much  harm.  The  Muhammadans  more  bitter  than  before.  Twice 
this  week  I — an  aged  servant  of  Christ — have  been  turned  away 
from  the  Zenanas,  to  which  I  went  in  gentleness  and  kindness.     To- 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  463 

day  I  was  rejected  at  a  fourth.  .  .  .  It  is  a  strain  upon  the  threefold 
cord  of  Faith,  Hope,  and  Love,  this  deliberate  choosing  of  darkness 
instead  of  light,  Barabbas  instead  of  Christ.  We  need  the  prayers 
of  God's  people,  and  to  remember  the  promise,  "  In  due  season  ye 
shall  reap  if  ye  faint  not." ' 

'  Sept.  4. —  .  .  .  Two  places  very  nice.  B.  is  determined  to  be  a 
Christian,  and  teach  his  wife.     Wants  Urdu  Gospel.  .  .  . 

'  Sept.  5. — .  .  .  Felt  ill ;  half-blind  ;  yet  generally  well-heard.  .  .  . 

'  Sept.  6. — . . .  Ophthalmia,  but  managed  to  go  to  Q.  five  places.  .  .  . 

'■Dec.  12,  1889. — D.G.  Hindus  cross.  As  I  mounted  dark  stair, 
heard  "Buha  band."^  However,  I  ventured  up,  smiling,  and  said, 
— "When  you  come  to  the  Dispensary,  the  door  is  not  shut." 
There  were  four  women  ;  the  two  elder  cross,  not  the  younger. 
At  first  no  seat  was  offered  me ;  then  some  one  said,  "  Buddhi,"  ^ 
on  which  a  small  mat  was  brought,  and  the  old  woman  meekly 
sat  down.  I  tried  to  make  my  visit  pleasant,  showed  my  Golden 
Tree,  and  sang.  It  was  a  kind  of  breaking  of  ice.  I  took 
care  not  to  stay  very  long.  When  I  had  risen,  the  two  younger 
salaamed.  I  turned,  smiling,  to  one  cross  old  lady,  and  coaxed  her 
to  return  my  salaam.  After  a  little  while  she  did  so  ;  but  I  wanted  to 
conquer  the  toughest  also.  The  younger  women  listened,  much 
amused,  to  my  poHte  expostulations  on  her  rudeness.  At  last  the  old 
hand  went  up  to  the  brow,  and  I  departed,  contented.  The  ice  was 
broken.     One  can  go  again.' 

Dec.  25,  Christmas.,  1889. — Nice.  D.,  B.,  and  children,  made 
catechumens.' 

^  Dec.  27. — The  best  day,  I  think,  that  I  have  ever  had  in  Zenanas. 
.  .  .  N.  B.,  A  very  nice  visit.  Two  fine  young  men,  and  at  least 
seven  women  of  various  ages,  appeared  pleased,  interested,  and 
without  any  bigotry.  So  much  inclined  towards  Christianity  did  one 
man  in  particular  seem,  that  I  spoke  of  the  advantage  of  a  united 
family  accepting  the  Truth,  and  expressed  a  hope  that  all  would  come 
out.  "  Sat ! "  2  echoed  the  Hindu  heartily,  throwing  up  one  of  his 
hands,  as  though  to  give  force  to  the  word.' 

"•June  29,  1890. — I  have,  three  times  in  as  many  weeks,  been  able 
freely  to  show  a  Bible  picture  in  Islami  schools,  and  speak  of  Christ. 
To-day,  as  I  walked  in  the  streets,  twice  tradesmen  in  their  little 
shops  wished  to  see  my  picture.  I  stopped,  and  others  gathered 
round,  whilst  I  explained.' 

1  Meaning,  *  Door  closed  against  you. '  2  Old  woman.  ^  True. 


464  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

''Sept.  2,  1890.  .  .  .  K.,  she  sad.  Seems  to  regret  death  of  her 
poor  young  S.,  whom  she  kept  such  a  prisoner,  and  of  whom  I 
thought,  "  If  any  one  in  that  quarter  be  a  secret  believer,  it  is  she  ! " 
I  could  seldom  get  into  the  house.  The  sweet  S.  was  quite  a 
prisoner.  I  have  even  stood  before  the  window,  and  sung  in  the 
open  lane,  hoping  that  S.  would  hear  the  sound  of  my  voice,  like 
imprisoned  Richard.  I  hear  that  S.  gave  birth  to  a  girl,  "a  very 
beautiful  tiny  child,'  who  only  lived  for  a  month,  and  the  young 
mother  soon  followed.  I  have  strong  hopes  that  both  are  with  the 
Lord  Jesus.' 

^Feb.  9,  1 89 1. — .  .  .  I  have  suffered  greatly  from  chilliness  this  cold 
weather.  Perhaps  in  no  winter  during  my  whole  life  more.  Old 
age.    Ague.' 

''March  25,  1891. — Song.  W.  B.  Buckle  ;  but  my  best  hearer  was 
R.  L.,  very  interesting  schoolboy.  He  met  me  at  my  first  Zenana,  and 
followed  me  to  all  the  others.  He  was  so  nice, — even  singing  bhajans 
— that  I  thought  at  first  that  he  must  have  learned  at  the  Plough. 
With  interest,  amid  interruptions  from  women,  listened  to  story  of  the 
three  Jews  in  the  furnace,  and  told  it  afterwards  in  another  Zenana. 
He  was  a  help  to  me,  explaining  the  Buckle,  etc.,  very  nicely.  When 
the  subject  was  Christ's  Ascension,  the  boy  said  that  He  had  gone  up 
to  God  Almighty.  I  intend  to  write  out  the  song  for  the  dear 
fellow.  .  .  .  His  heart  seemed  so  impressionable,  and  his  face 
brightened  at  the  thought  of  the  Crown  to  be  given  to  "  those  who 
believe  in  Jesus."  "  I  want  to  be  a  Christian,''  he  said  in  English. 
Lord,  bless  him.     Give  him  the  Crown.' 

''April  13,  1891.  .  .  .  R.  E.  took  me  into  her  arms;  felt  so  sHm 
encircled  by  them.  I  noticed  a  quantity  of  jewels  on  her  arms. 
She  popped  her  bare  feet  on  my  knee, — I  was  seated  on  the 
ground, — to  show  me  the  jewels  on  them.  Her  amount  of  clothing 
was  by  no  means  proportionate.  Presently  down  went  her  fore- 
head on  my  lap.  I  silently  hoped  that  there  was  not  much  oil  on 
her  hair.' 

''May  14. — Hindus  very  nice.  My  A.  B.,  cheerful-looking  C.  D., 
another  whom  I  do  not  know  so  well,  E.  F.  These  three  all  hope 
to  meet  me  in  Heaven.  When  I  said  to  C.  D.,  "  But  how  can  we 
go  ?  We  are  sinners  ! " — her  simple  reply  was,  "  Jesus  Christ,  Guide." 
I  have  hopes  of  these  three.' 

''May  15. — F.  G.,  nice  intelligent  man.     I  was  surprised  at  a  little 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  465 

boy,  H.  L,  being  able  to  read.  Gave  him  hymn-book.  Was  much 
followed  about  by  boys.  .  .  .' 

^ May  25,  189 1.  .  .  .  Felt  the  weight  of  years  much.  Work  a 
struggle  !     Lord,  help  me  !  .  .  .' 

''June  4.  .  .  .  L.  very  nice.  When  I  said  that  she  was  patient,  poor 
dying  hand  pointed  upwards.     Peace  on  face.     Many  listened.  .  .  . 

'June  22.  ...  I  am  to  start  to-day  for  Dalhousie.  Feel  old  and 
rather  worn  out.     If  I  live  to  1892  must  not  stay  down^  so  long.  .  .  .' 

''Aug  14,   1891.  ...  I  sat  outside  with  Bibis,  in  front  of 's 

house.  The  door  half  open,  behind  it  pretty  smiling  young  Bibi, 
who  again  and  again  silently  made  signs  to  me  to  come  in.  Did  so, 
and  sat  beside  her.  She  did  not  utter  one  word,  but  by  her  looks 
tried  to  show  me  that  she  received  the  Word,  and  believed.  She 
only  said  "  Salaam,"  when  I  left.  I  read  to  her  of  Christ  being  the 
Good  Shepherd,  His  own  words.' 

'  Dec.  24. — J.  ill ;  sweet.  Told  me  that,  sitting  up  in  bed,  she  saw 
beings  come  in,  clothed  in  white  shining  raiment.  Felt  frightened. 
Asked  why  they  did  not  speak.  Afterwards  fell  asleep,  and  dreamed 
of  being  taken  to  a  beautiful  place.  She  is,  we  think,  a  true  believer, 
confesses  herself  sinful,  and  looks  to  Christ  for  salvation.  Asked 
her  if  she  would  like  baptism.  "  Yes."  "  Would  your  husband  allow 
it  ?  "     "  No. " ' 

These  are  specimens  of  the  longer  entries.  The  majority 
are  exceedingly  brief,  consisting  for  the  most  part  of  names, 
initials,  and  single  words.  Letters  to  Mrs.  Hamilton  in 
the  early  part  of  1891  are  unusually  few:  not  that  the 
usual  number  were  not  written,  but  few  have  been  kept. 
In  the  spring  of  that  year  there  was  some  discussion  as  to 
the  name  of  'The  Plough  School,' — her  own  favourite 
name  for  the  School,  which  meant  much  to  her.  One 
cannot  but  regret  that  any  stir  should  have  been  made 
about  the  matter,  when  slie  had  been  the  '  mother '  of  the 
school.  The  criticism  having  been  put  forward,  however 
needlessly,  she  wrote  to  Mr.  Baring  : — 

'  By-the-by,  the  name  "  Plough  "  is  objected  to,  as  sounding  like  a 
pubHc-house.  .  .  .  How  could  we  choose  a  name  that  would  signify 

1  i.e.  Down  in  the  Plains. 
20 


466  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

entire  dependence  on  God  ? .  .  .  The  Plough  appears  to  be  flourishing. 
Boys  come  to  it  even  from  what  we  call  the  large  Government 
School.  Numbers  have  arisen  to  about  113.  To-day  I  had  no  fewer 
than  seven  rather  superior  boys  from  the  Plough.  They  come  for 
religious  conversation  and  Bible  pictures.' 

On  the  17th  of  June  1891  she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Gardiner 
about  the  recent  death  of  that  remarkable  man,  Bishop 
French, — no  longer  holding  the  position  of  a  Bishop,  but 
working  as  a  simple  Missionary. 

'  My  dear  Mrs.  Gardiner, — Though  June  in  the  plains  is  not  the 
most  favourable  month  for  letter-writing,  especially  to  a  Septua- 
genarian, I  will  not  let  your  kind  note  remain  longer  unanswered. 

'  Yes,  indeed,  our  late  loved  Bishop  French  was  a  saint,  one  whose 
memory  is  sweet,  whose  example  is  lofty.  You  will  have  seen  the 
article  in  the  Punjab  Mission  News.  I  think  that  it  was  written  by 
Rowland  Bateman,  who,  so  like  himself,  feels  not  having  rushed  off  in 
all  the  heat,  to  have  been  at  the  side  of  his  venerated  Friend,  left  alone 
in  a  land  of  strangers.  But  the  dear  Saint  was  not  alone  !  What  a 
glorious  ending  to  his  beautiful  course  !  He  reminds  one,  when 
dying  in  the  grapple  with  Muhammadanism  in  the  very  home  of  its 
birth,  of  the  Swiss  hero,  who  broke  the  phalanx  of  the  enemy  by 
clasping  the  spears  of  the  foremost  in  his  arms,  and  so  receiving  them 
into  his  breast. 

"  '  Make  way  for  liberty,'  he  cried  ; 
'  Make  way  for  liberty  ! ' — and  died." 

'  Of  course  there  will  be  a  Memoir  of  Bishop  French,— but  where 
is  the  Boswell  competent  to  write  it?  Who  could  give  all  the 
delicate  touches,  needed  for  a  perfect  portrait  of  one  with  so  many 
idiosyncrasies  ? 

'  How  well  I  remember  the  dear  Bishop  coming  all  the  way  from 
Lahore, — when  there  was  no  railway, — to  visit  me,  when  I  was 
supposed  to  be  dying.^  He  sat  by  my  bedside,  gently  talking.  I  do 
not  remember  that  I  said  anything  to  him.  I  was  looking  up  at  his 
face,  and  thinking  what  a  lovely  medallion  might  be  made  of  it  in 
wax  !  It  was  an  earthly  thought ;  but  when  you  recall  the  delicate 
features,  pure  complexion,  and  saintly  look,  of  that  countenance,  you 
will  hardly  wonder  at  the  sick  woman's  reflection. 

'  My  letters,  or  rather  letter,  from  England  came  in  when  I  was 

1  It  is  not  clear  which  of  her  severe  illnesses  is  here  referred  to. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  467 

engaged  in  writing,  and  you  will  not  wonder  at  the  blot  on  the  last 
page.  ...  I  feel  now  disinclined  to  write  at  all.  My  beloved  sister, 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  has  been  seriously  ill ;  but,  thank  God,  to-day's 
account  of  her  is  good. — Yours  affectionately,  C,  M.  Tucker. 

TO  MISS   MINNIE  DIXIE. 

'  {Frojn  the  Hills)  July  4,  1891. 

'  I  am  not  timid  about  snakes  ;  but  H.  has  seen  four  lately,  and  it 
is  only  common-sense  to  look  under  one's  bed,  as  the  heat  compels 
open  windows  and  doors.  I  have  only  fish-insects  and  tarantulas  at 
present,  but  am  promised  plenty  of  scorpions,  centipedes,  and  leeches, 
in  the  rains.  You  know  I  have  not  your  talent  for  squashing  reptiles  ; 
and  if  I  called  out  for  help  in  the  unpleasant  business,  I  doubt 
whether  any  one  would  hear  me.  I  rather  think  that  this  will  be  my 
last  visit  to  the  Hills,  and  that  Amritsar  will  be  my  Sanatarium  in 
future.' 

The  two  next  letters  to  Miss  Dixie  are  about  the 
outbreak  of  smallpox  in  Batala.  She  was  '  quite  ready  to 
nurse  a  smallpox  patient,  should  the  malady  spread.' 
And  again, — '  Why  should  I  delay  my  return  ?  As  a 
Missionary,  I  am  liable  any  day  to  meet  children  with 
smallpox  full  out.  I  hope  to  be  with  you  in  about  a 
fortnight ' 

TO   Miss   LANGLEY. 

'  Batala, /j/Zy  29,  1891. 

'  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  ask  what  kind  of  things  would  be  most 
useful  here.  For  sale^  pretty  little  articles  of  dress  for  English 
children,  from  one  day  old  to  five  years,  are  most  readily  disposed  of. 
We  are  afraid  of  woollen  articles,  as  they  are  so  difficult  to  keep. 
White  ants  are  a  real  puzzle  at  Batala.  .  .  .  Happily  cotton  or  silk 
they  attack  much  less.  Gentlemen's  neckties,  of  a  fashionable  shape, 
would  be  likely  to  sell  well.  Station-people  in  India  think  at  least  as 
much  about  fashion  as  Londoners  do.  A  few  pretty  cosies  and 
toilet  or  tea-table  covers  would  be  nice,  and  some  elegant  dolls. 
These  would  suit  for  sales.  For  presents  in  schools — cheap  dolls, 
gay  and  rather  gaudy ;  bags,  with  cotton  and  tape  ;  kurtas,  common 
gay  print,  that  will  wash.  I  dare  say  that  Miss  Cockle  could  supply 
a  pattern.  The  kurtas  need  to  be  made  of  Oriental  shape,  or  they 
would  not  be  worn  by  the  school-children.' 


468  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

An  attack  of  ophthalmia  in  her  eyes,  which  must  have 
caused  much  suffering,  is  made  Hght  of  in  her  letters  ;  and 
in  the  same  passing  manner  she  alludes  to  a  fall,  whereby 
her  face  was  turned  black  and  blue.  The  main  point  in 
connection  with  this  accident  seemed  to  her  to  be  the 
kindness  and  sympathy  shown  by  Batala  people,  when  she 
went  to  visit  them,  and  the  fact  that  nobody  smiled  at  her 
discoloured  and  swollen  features. 

TO   MISS   LEILA  HAMILTON. 

'Sept  12,  1 891. 

'  You  will  see  a  half-sheet ;  it  belonged  to  a  whole  one,  but  the 
first  half,  alas  !  I  have  had  to  tear  up  ;  for  it  gave  such  a  bright 
account  of  one,  who,  only  to-day,  I  have  found  out  has  been 
deceiving  us  for  many  months  !  .  .  .   Let  us  drop  the  painful  subject. 

'  I  had  a  visit  early  this  morning  from  a  real  servant  of  God,  dear 
old  K.  S.  !  One  thinks  of  him  rather  as  the  learned  and  pious 
Pandit,  than  as  the  ordained  Pastor  ;  he  leads  such  a  wandering  life. 
His  faithful  heart  was  heavy  to-day,  from  the  inconsistencies  of 
professed  Native  Christians.  He  thought  them  better  out  of  the  Fold 
than  in  it ; — so  do  I,  for  many  are  not  sheep  at  all ! 

'  I  have  not  yet  heard  whether  dear  Mr.  Bateman  has  recovered 
I  have  written  to  him  to-day.  My  letter  will  not  cheer  him,  but  he 
must  know  facts.  Blindness  is  no  benefit.  We  want  light  and  air. 
Do  you  know,  dear,  that  we  felt  our  church  dreadfully  close, — yes, 
for  years  and  years.  The  cause  was  obvious  to  us  ladies.  The  doors 
and  lower  windows  were  often  opened ;  the  tipper  windows  never  ! 
It  was  troublesome  to  get  at  such  high  ones  ;  so  year  after  year  the 
bad  air,  which  came  from  breath,  ascended,  and  had  no  vent.  Last 
Sunday,  after  my  earnest  protest,  the  windows  were  opened,  and  we 
breathed  pure  air ! 

'  We  are  very  quiet  now  ;  but  in  two  or  three  weeks  will  begin  the 
rush  from  the  Hills  ;  the  season  for  work  beginning,  and  the  season 
for  visiting  too.  ...  It  is  possible  that  in  the  beginning  of  October 
I  may  go  for  a  week  or  so  to  Futteyghur  with  sweet  Daisy  Key,  to 
teach  the  Christian  peasants  in  that  out-of-the-way  spot.  I  think 
that  the  quietness,  with  one  choice  companion,  would  suit  me  better 
than  the  bustle  of  many  arrivals  at  Batala.  About  the  ist  of 
November  I  am  engaged  to  go  for  a  short  visit  to  dear  Louis  and 
Lettie  at  Rawal  Pindi.  .  .  .  The  journey  is  not  a  very  fatiguing  one, 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  469 

as  I  can  go  all  the  way  by  train.  Rawal  Pindi  is  a  city  at  the  foot  of 
the  Himalayas  ;  there  is  no  mounting  up.' 

'  Sept.  16,  1 891. — My  own  sweet  Sister,  I  do  confess  with  regret  that 

I  wrote  too  hastily  about  ,  as  dear  M.  C.  does  not  think  him 

bad,  and  hopes  that  he  may  be  useful  in  time.  I  was  vexed  and 
impatient  at  my  Laura  being  so  worried,  year  after  year.  .  .  .  But  I 
was  wrong,  dear,  I  frankly  own  it  !  I  wonder  when  I  shall  be  given 
grace  to  be  really  loving,  gentle,  and  patient ! 

'  Poor  dear  Daisy  and  I  have  been  sadly  tried  lately  by  the  wicked- 
ness of  those  in  our  own  compound.  We  both  feel  that  it  will  be  a 
relief  to  get  away  for  a  while  to  Futteyghur,  which  we  shall  probably 
do  in  the  beginning  of  October.  .  .  .  But  oh,  let  me  not  be  so 
ungrateful  to  the  Lord,  or  so  unjust  to  dear  excellent  Native  Christian 
friends,  as  to  say  in  my  haste,  "  All  men  are  liars  ! "  Poor  Daisy 
thinks  Batala  the  most  wicked  place  that  she  has  ever  been  in  ;  and 
so  do  I  ?  But  precious  jewels  come  to  Batala,  though  very  few  out  of 
it.  .  .  . 

*  But  I  must  not  write  only  of  trials,  love.  If  you  could  have 
dropped  in  upon  us  yesterday  evening,  you  would  have  thought  us  a 
very  happy  party.  See  Char,  in  one  part  of  the  room,  playing  at 
chess  with  our  good  Pastor,  Nobin  Chanda;^  .  .  .  dear  Babu  Singha, 
the  excellent  and  wise,  a  special  comfort  to  me,  looking  on  in  his 
quiet  benevolent  way.  At  the  other  side  see  sweet  Daisy,  animated 
and  bright,  playing  at  our  famous  Batala  game  with  a  choice  set  of 
Natives  ;  .  .  .  and  last,  not  least,  dear  Rosie  Singha,  our  honorary 
and  very  steady  worker  in  the  Dispensary.  I  feel  giving  these  kinds 
of  parties  a  real  duty  ;  and  they  give,  at  little  cost,  so  much  innocent 
enjoyment.  It  is  well  for  the  Missionaries  too  to  have  pauses,  in  a 
struggle  with  so  much  that  is  repulsive  and  saddening,  ...  I  think 
that  Rowland  is  not  now  actually  ill,  as  he  writes  about  being  in  the 
midst  of  a  sermon.  I  hope  that  he  will  be  able  to  pay  Batala  a 
flying  visit  before  long.  .  .  .  He  has  so  many  Missionary  troubles, 
and  we  cannot  help  adding  to  them.     But — 

'  "  Soon  and  for  ever,  we  '11  see  as  we  're  seen, 

And  learn  the  deep  meaning  of  things  that  have  been !  " ' 

'•Sept.  27,  1891. — I  will  steal  a  bit  from  the  morning  to  write  a 
little  to  you.  We  are  living  rather  in  a  bustle  at  present ;  the  tide  of 
Missionaries  running  down  from  the  Hills,  rather  sweeping  over 
Batala.     Dear  Rowland  is  here.  .  .  .  Miss  Boyd  is  here.     She  is  to 

1  The  Rev.  Nobin  Chanda  Das,  for  years  Native  Pastor  at  Batala,  and  Head- 
master of  the  Mission  '  Plough  '  School. 


470  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

be  married,  please  God,  next  week.  .  .  .  Her  visit  has  been  a  real 
help  to  me,  at  a  time  of  much  Missionary  difficulty.  .  .  .  Her  Betrothed 
has  been  to  Muscat,  to  gather  information  about  the  last  days  of  dear 

Bishop  French.  .  .  .  Miss  returned  here  on  Saturday ;   Miss 

Dixie  and  the  Corfields  start  for  Batala  to-day.  One  lady  comes 
here  from  Amritsar  to-day  ;  we  are  to  start  her  from  hence  at  4  A.M. 
to-morrow,  Tuesday.  ...  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  be  quietly  off,  .  .  . 
out  of  a  kind  of  whirlpool.  We  will  have  eight  at  dinner  to-day ; 
quite  as  much  as  our  table  will  hold.' 

'FUTTEYGHUR,  Oct  II.— I  watch  with  much  interest  the  Christian 
father,  R.  M.,  when  at  our  long  Services  his  little  four-years  old 
Z.  is  beside  him.  It  is  lovely  to  see  the  peaceful  confiding  loving  cling- 
ing trust  of  the  little  child,  as  she  cuddles  to  her  strong  father,  and 
his  gentle  tenderness  to  the  wee  girl.  ...  It  makes  me  think  of  our 
Heavenly  Father  and  us,  His  weak  httle  ones.  But  an  elder  girl 
of  R.  M.  was  bitten  by  a  snake ;  and  then  the  tender  father 
showed  "the  hardness  of  love."  He  resolutely  cut  out  the  poisoned 
part  with  a  penknife.  The  poor  child  screamed  terribly,  but  still  the 
parent  cut  on.  I  dare  say  that  his  own  heart  felt  gashed.  The  child 
was  saved.  O  when  our  Heavenly  Father  thus  wounds  to  save, 
may  we  have  grace  to  lie  still  ! ' 

One  would  much  like  to  know  the  rest  ot  this  story, 
and  how  the  poor  father  managed  to  keep  his  Httle  girl 
from  bleeding  to  death.  His  courage  must  indeed  have 
been  great. 

Later  in  the  same  letter,  when  again  on  the  never-fail- 
ing topic  of  troubles  and  disappointments  in  the  work, 
Miss  Tucker  says, — '  O  what  need  we  Missionaries  have  of 
wisdom  !     We  are  so  liable  to  make  mistakes.' 

TO . 

''Oct.  24,  1 891. 

'I  was  in  Sikh  villages  this  morning.  The  Sikhs  are  more 
friendly  than  the  Muhammadans.  I  have  often  told  them  that  if 
their  respectable  Guru  Nanak  were  here  on  Earth  now,  he  would  pro- 
bably become  a  Christian.  I  said  that  I  had  heard  that  there  was 
something  about  our  Lord  in  the  Granth.  The  Sikh  with  whom  I 
was  conversing  at  once  gave  me  the  "  Slok,"  and  translated  its  diffi- 
cult antique  Panjabi.     This  is  the  Slok  in  English  ;  "  That  Cutter  of 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  47 1 

demons'  heads,  the  world's  revered  Jesus  !"  The  Sikh  said  that 
"  Isa"  (Jesus)  was  thought  by  them  to  be  "  Ishur,— God  Almighty." 
I  replied  that  we  too  called  Jesus,  God  !' 


TO  MRS.   HAMILTON. 

*  Oct.  30. — Many  many  thanks,  mine  own  sweet  Sister,  for  yours  of 
the  8th,  and  all  your  loving  thought  for  Char.'s  comfort.  You  would 
keep  the  bird  in  a  golden  cage,  lined  with  soft  fur  !  But  Char,  is  a 
bit  of  a  wild  bird,  and  likes  to  fly  about  freely.  The  fur  will  be 
delicious  on  cold  mornings  and  evenings  ;  but  to  wear  it  all  day,  even 
in  December,  would  feel  exhaustingly  warm.  One  needs  to  adapt 
oneself  perpetually  to  the  changes  of  temperature  in  December  and 
January  ;  this  needs  a  little  Indian  experience  and  common-sense. 
The  want  of  these  two  things  is  one  cause  of  Indian  break-downs. 
Inexperienced  Missionaries  think  it  safe  to  do  in  India  what  they 
have  done  in  old  England  !  If  you  consider,  love,  that  I  have  kept 
my  health,  with  some  few  interruptions,  for  almost  sixteen  years  in 
India,  you  may  allow  that  I  am  a  fair  manager  of  it.  I  am  thought 
rather  a  wonder. 

'  As  for  having  "  a  really  nice  capable  maid  to  wait  upon  "  me  ; — 

0  dear  ! — dear — DEAR  !  !  I  might  fill  a  whole  hne  with  such  exclama- 
tions, to  express  my  almost  horror  at  such  a  proposal !  Europeans, 
except  good  working  Missionaries,  who  can  help^  are  dreadful 
anxieties  and  troubles.  An  Englishwoman  in  service  is  always  a 
possible  invalid,  and  a  probable  grumbler.  I  never  in  my  life  could 
stand  a  person  running  after  me  and  watching  me.  I  have  an  ayah 
to  attend  to  my  room, — and  could  have  plenty  of  darzies  to  mend  my 
clothes,  but  I  prefer  doing  a  little  stitching  myself.  I  am  not  always 
tumbling  down  like  a  ninepin,— but  I  would /r^r  tumbling  once  or 
twice  a  month  to  having  any  one  always  watching  me.  Dear  Minnie 
insists  on  handing  me  to  my  room  at  night.  You  must  remember 
that  I  am  the  adopted  Aunt  of  a  Doctor  Miss  Sahiba. 

'  This  is  rather  a  frisky  note,  darling.     When  I  am  a  real  invalid, 

1  am  said  to  be  a  good  one  ;  but  I  am  strongly  averse  to  becoming 
one  when  I  am  in  fair  health.  ...  I  know  how  dear  Laura  and 
Leila  would  constantly  be  putting  soft  fetters  of  love  round  me  ;  but 
they  would  find  me  an  obstreperous  bird.  I  should  break  the  fetters 
by  sudden  astonishing  efforts, — as  I  fled  from  the  Doctor  lady  who 
came  from  Amritsar.  I  knew  that  the  Weitbrechts  wanted  her  to 
see  me.     After  breakfast  she  went  with  Dr.  W.  into  his  study,  to  look 


472  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

at  something.  I  saw  my  opportunity,  hurried  down  the  long  stair, 
and  into  my  duli  ;— 

•  "They  're  gone  !  she's  gone, — over,  etc." 

I  knew  that  I  was  safe,  as  Batala  has  twelve  entrances  ;  and  no  one 
could  tell  which  I  had  taken.  It  was  rare  fun,  and  seemed  to  do  me 
more  good  than  physic  could  have  done.  So  take  no  anxious  thought 
about  me,  love.' 

The  being  '  handed  to  her  room  at  night '  was  found  to 
be  a  necessity  in  her  old  age.  After  spending  the  evening 
in  Sonnenschein  with  the  younger  ladies, — generally  either 
reading  aloud,  or  playing  games, — she  had  to  go  out  into 
the  front  verandah,  and  to  pass  along  it  till  she  reached 
the  door  of  her  own  little  '  Sunset '  dwelling.  If  alone, 
she  was  apt  to  stumble,  or  to  run  against  something,  and 
the  regular  plan  was  adopted  of  either  Miss  Dixie  or  one 
other  of  her  nieces  always  accompanying  the  older  lady,  on 
this  small  nightly  pilgrimage. 

TO  MISS  LAURA  VERONICA  TUCKER. 

'Nov.  i8,  1891. 

*  Oh,  dearest  Laura  Veronica,  what  a  warm  capital  web  you  have 
spread  for  her  whom  you  call  Fairy  Frisket.  Certainly  I  look  very 
unlike  3.  fairy  ;  and  a  very  comfy  rug  is  far  more  suitable  for  me  than 
gossamer  wings  or  glittering  wand  !  A  bibi  expressed  surprise  to- 
day that  a  weak  old  woman  could  sing  ;  but  I  told  her  that  I  sing 
every  day  in  my  life.  If  I  stopped  for  a  week,  perhaps  my  throat 
might  find  out  my  age  !     I  must  not  give  it  a  chance  of  so  doing.   The 

same  with  my  feet ;  the  dear  kind  E s  were  always  offering  me 

a  drive,  and  I  often  took  one  with  L.  ;  but — oh,  my  friends.  Misses 
Feet,  you  had  to  do  your  work  too.  No  laziness  tolerated  ;  or  you 
might  presume  to  fancy  yourselves  antiquated.  Now  I  am  back  in 
harness  again,  have  been  to  the  city  to-day,  and  intend  to  visit  a 
village-school  to-morrow,  unless  Daisy  Key  go  instead.  She  is  far 
better  at  teaching  than  I  am.  But  I  am  afraid  that  I  have  not  yet 
thanked  my  sweet  niece  for  the  capital  rug.  I  do  so  now  with  a  kind 
kiss.  .  .  . 

'  Yesterday,  in  the  railway  carriage,  I  offered  a  wee  book  by 
Spurgeon  to  a  tall  big  man,  connected  with  the  railway  department. 
He  asked  me  immediately  if  I  were  related  to  ,  and  gave  his 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  473 

opinion  that  was   a  real  good  man.      My  frank  companion 

expressed,  however,  a  general  dislike  to  Missionaries.  "  Why  do  you 
not  like  us  ?"  I  asked  mildly.  He  had  evidently  not  been  fortunate 
in  some  that  he  had  known, — their  names  were  not  familiar  to  me. 
He  disliked  their  preferring  working  on  Natives  instead  of  their  own 
countrymen,  and  evidently  thought  them  too  comfortable  !  But  what 
can  I  do,  when  my  dear  relatives  send  such  charming  gifts  to  your 
attached  old  Auntie  Char  ? ' 

TO   MR.   AND   MRS.    ST.   GEORGE  TUCKER. 

^  Dec.   12,  1891. 

'Your  very  handsome  and  very  kind — only  too  handsome — gift 
reached  me  safely  this  morning  ;  just  the  right  time  for  the  arrival,  as 
the  air  in  the  morning  is  very  keen,  and  then  fur  is  a  real  comfort. 
Much  has  your  fine  jacket  been  admired, — so  "  beautiful,"  so  "  grand." 
But  it  does  not  look  unsuitable  even  for  Missionary  use.  Very  many 
affectionate  thanks  for  this  token  of  your  affection.  It  quite  strikes 
as  well  as  gratifies  me,  to  see  how  little  difference  sixteen  years  of 
absence  seems  to  make  as  regards  the  loving-kindness  of  my  dear 
relatives.  They  do  not  seem  to  forget  the  aged  Missionary,  or  weary 
of  showing  her  tokens  of  love.' 

*We  are  to  have  an  interesting  Ordination  Service  next  Sunday. 
F.  M.  and  I.  U.,  Converts  from  Muhammadanism,  tried  and  true, 
are  to  be  appointed  Deacons.  We  expect  the  Bishop  on  Thursday. 
He  will,  we  hope,  lay  the  first  stone  of  our  Mission  School  Building, 
so  called,^  on  Saturday.  ...  I  have  begged  that  the  building  may  be 
very  plain, — dear  Mr.  Baring  gave  the  money  for  it.  .  .  .  It  is  a 
great  matter  for  some  religious  instruction  to  be  given  to  more  than 
130  boys  from  Heathen  and  Muhammadan  homes.' 

TO   MRS.   HAMILTON. 

'Dec.  21. 
'  We  have  been  having  a  busy  time.  .  .  .  On  Sunday  there  was 
the  interesting  Ordination.  To-day  the  dear  Bishop  kindly  laid  the 
first  stone  of  Mr.  Baring's  generous  gift  to  Batala,  a  building  for  the 
City  School.  A  number  of  Muhammadans  and  Hindus  were  pre- 
sent ;  but  the  service  was  most  distinctly  Christian.  The  Gloria 
Patri  was  repeated  again  and  again  ;  the  precious  Name  of  Christ 
was  not  only  on  the  stone,  but  in  the  prayers  and  portion  of  the  Bible 
read.  ...  At  the  gathering  I  saw  many  interesting  persons,  both 

1  Formerly  'The  Plough,' 


474    LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

English  and  Native.  .  .  .  The  Bishop  is  such  a  lovable  man  ;  gentle, 
bright,  aflfectionate ;  showing  not  a  particle  of  pride.  We  do  not 
call  him  "  My  lord,"  but  "  Bishop."  ' 

''  {Undated) — Beloved  Sister,  this  is  the  last  Sunday  of  1891  ;  may 
1892  be  rich  in  blessings  to  you  and  your  loved  ones  of  two  genera- 
tions,    "  He  leadeth  me,— oh,  blessed  thought !  " 

'  It  is  good  for  me  to  be  a  while  in  this  quiet  place.^  Batala  at 
Christmas  time  is  too  bustling.  Merry  festivities  are  more  delight- 
ful to  the  young  than  the  old.  I  expected  dear  Herbert  and  Mr. 
Channing  to  dine  with  us  ;  and  to  my  surprise  we  sat  down  twelve. 
It  was  all  right ;  we  should  use  hospitality  without  grudging, 
especially  at  Christmas  time  ;  but  you  know  that  Char,  has  a  sorrow 
at  her  heart.  I  retired  from  the  merry  games,  to  prepare  for  the 
next  day's  long  journey.  O  my  Laura,  ask  for  me  a  gentle  sympa- 
thising spirit, — 

'  "  To  meet  the  glad  with  cheerful  smiles, 
And  to  wipe  the  weeping  eyes."  ' 

Was  the  '  sorrow  '  here  spoken  of,  the  delicate  health  of 
'  her  Laura  ?  '  If  the  sister  in  India  was  ageing  fast,  the 
sister  in  England  was  failing  fast.  Parted  as  they  had 
been  during  sixteen  long  years,  the  loving  sympathy 
between  them  was  as  fresh  and  ardent  as  ever.  A  dread 
had  long  oppressed  Mrs.  Hamilton  that  '  her  Char.'  would 
soon  be  called  away.  But  though  the  summons  to  the 
elder  sister  was  indeed  not  far  distant,  that  to  the  younger 
sister  was  to  arrive  first. 

1  Narowal,  the  Station  of  the  Rev.  R.  Bateman. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

A.D.    1892 

LIGHT  AT   EVENTIDE 

The  Evening  of  Miss  Tucker's  life  was  passing  fast  away. 

Sixteen  years  of  her  long  Indian  campaign  were  over. 

Only  two  years  remained.     But  the  end  of  her  Evening 

was  to  be  Day,  not  Night.     For  nearly  forty  years  she  had 

looked  forward  with  joy  to  the  great  change ;  for  more 

than  twenty  she  had  longed  with  an  impassioned  craving 

for  a  sight,  Face  to  face,  of  that  dear  Lord  and  Master 

whom  she  loved.     And  though  she  did  not  know  it,  the 

time  was  drawing  very  near.     Could  she  have  known  it,  the 

passing  troubles  of  these  months  would  have  seemed  easy 

to  bear,  in  the  light  of  coming  glory.     Barely  two  more 

years  of  toil  and  weariness, — and  then — the  Home-going  ! 

One  more  heavy  sorrow  had  to  come  first ;  one  more 

sharp  blow  upon  the  golden  staff  of  her  Will.     Many  a 

blow  had  fallen  since  she  wrote  her  little  book,  The  Giant- 

Killer ;  many  dear  ones  had  been  called  away  by  death. 

And  now  the  summons  was  going  forth  for  the  dearest  of 

all ;  the  sister- friend,  who  from  very  infancy  had  been  one 

with  herself.     No  shadow  had  ever  fallen  on  their  love  one 

for  another.     Before  the  close  of  1892  the  shadow  of  death 

was  to  fall  across  it,  leaving  Charlotte  Tucker  more  lonely 

in  heart  than  she  had  ever  been  before.     But  the  shadow 

was  to  fall  for  a  very  little  while.     Only  a  few  months  of 

separation  ;  and  then  the  sisters  would  be  together  again. 

475 


476  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

* "  Stay  thy  hand  ! " '  Fides  exclaimed,  in  the  story  by  A.  L.  O.  E., 
as  blow  after  blow  fell  on  the  golden  staff.     * "  It  can  bear  no  more  ! " 

'"Yet  a  little  patience,"  cried  Experience,  and  struck  it  again. 
Then  the  Will  was  restored  to  Fides, — straight,  pure,  beautiful, — oh, 
how  unlike  that  staff  which  had  been  so  deadly  in  the  grasp  of  Pride  ! 

'  As  Fides  stood  gazing  on  the  fair  gift  before  him,  once  more,  and 
for  the  last  time,  the  shining  robe  and  star-wreath  of  Conscience 
flashed  on  his  sight.  Never  before  had  her  smile  been  so  glad,  so 
beaming  with  the  radiance  of  Heaven. 

' ''  The  work  is  done, — the  fight  is  over  ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  Thou 
art  summoned  to  the  Presence  of  thy  King  !  A  messenger  is  even 
now  waiting  to  conduct  thee  to  the  Home  which  thou  so  long  hast 
desired  !  Go,  bearing  with  thee  the  offering  of  a  conquered  Will,  the 
acknowledgment  that  not  even  that  should  be  thine  own,  and  the 
remembrance  of  foes  bravely  met  and  overcome,  through  the  might 
of  Him  Who  armed  thee  for  the  fight.  ...  Go  where  all  is  gladness 
and  rejoicing  and  peace, — where  war  and  danger  shall  be  known  no 
more!"'i 

The  work  was  nearly  done ;  the  fight  was  nearly  over. 
But  Charlotte  Tucker  could  not  yet  see  the  starry  form, 
could  not  yet  hear  the  gentle  accents,  which  soon  would 
bid  her  to  '  rise  and  come  away.'  Before  many  days  of 
1892  had  passed,  she  was  back  again  in  Batala ;  deep  in 
her  usual  round  of  work  and  interests. 

'  Batala,  Jan.  10. — Here  am  I  at  home  again.  I  did  so  enjoy  and 
benefit  by  my  visit  to  Narowal.  It  was  not  leaving  work  but  leaving 
cares.  I  worked  every  day,  but  the  work  was  more  encouraging,  and 
the  feehng  of  repose  so  refreshing.  If  I  live  to  see  another  Christ- 
mas, I  think  that  I  shall  run  away  to  some  quiet  spot,  hke  Narowal, 
where  the  railway  whistle  is  never  heard.  .  .  . 

'  When  I  was  at  peaceful  Narowal,  I  happened  to  read  in  a  printed 
paper  a  kind  of  fable,  which  has  been  such  a  comfort  to  myself,  that 
I  have  put  the  idea  into  verse,  and  my  Laura  shall  have  a  copy.  .  .  . 
As  we  Missionaries  have  a  great  many  more  little  annoyances  than 
great  afflictions,  I  am  inclined — for  myself — to  change  the  last  line 
but  one  into 

'  "  Change  petty  worries  to  plumage  on  wings." 

'  You  know  there  are  on  a  bird's  pinion,  not  only  the  long  feathers, 

1  The  Giani-Killer,  by  A.  L.  O.  E. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  477 

but  the  little  tiny  ones  ;  but  how  that  fluffy  downy  sort  add  to  beauty 
and  comfort !  .  .  . 

"WEIGHTS  AND  WINGS. 

'  "Sweet  is  a  parable  which  I  have  read  ; 

Birds  at  the  first  could  not  soar  into  air, 
Bound  to  the  earth  ;  till  their  Maker,  'tis  said, 

Gave  to  each  two  little  burdens  to  bear. 
Proud  ones  refused  the  least  burden  to  lift ; 

Others,  submissive,  obediently  cried,— 
'  All  that  He  sends  we  will  take  as  a  gift ; 
Feeble  are  we,  yet  will  strength  be  supplied.' 

"  Raising  her  burdens,  each  bird  with  surprise 

Finds  to  her  weak  frame  most  closely  it  clings  ; 
Soft,  light  and  beautiful,  radiant  with  dyes, 

Lo  !  every  weight  has  expanded  to  wings  ! 
Woe  to  the  creatures  that  clung  to  the  ground  ! 

They  could  not  flutter  bright  wings  in  the  sky ; 
Ne'er  could  they  rise  above  Earth's  narrow  bound, — 

Whilst  their  companions  were  soaring  on  high. 

' '  Take  we  up  burdens  of  sorrow  or  care, 

Looking  to  Him  Who  the  trial  has  given, 
Grace  will  give  courage  and  patience  to  bear. 

Make  burdens  wings  to  uplift  us  to  Heaven. 
When  disappointment  its  heavy  cross  brings. 

Lord,  in  each  trial  Thy  love  let  us  see ; 
Change  e'en  our  heaviest  woes  into  wings, 

Onward  and  upward  to  bear  us  to  Thee  ! '  " 

'■Feb.  11^  1892. 

'  Mine  own  precious  Sister,— Again  have  you  been  called  to  the 
trial  of  sickness  and  suffering.  .  .  .  These  trials  may  seem  strange 
and  unaccountable  to  the  children  of  earth,  but  how  differently  they 
are  regarded  by  the  children  of  light !  They  make  us  keep  closer  to 
the  Father's  side, — cling  more  to  His  supporting  Hand, — the  weights 
do  turn  into  wings  !  O  how  often  have  I  during  late  days  thought 
of  that  little  parable  !  And  when  we  reach  the  Blessed  Shore,  and 
"  know  as  we  are  known,"  we  shall  fully  realise  why  it  is  good  that  we 
should  be  afflicted.  .  .  . 

'  I  was  reading  the  Commandments  aloud  in  a  village  yesterday, 
when  a  bright  young  Hindu  Pandit — rather  well  read — objected  to 
the  Second.  The  poor  fellow  was  probably  conscious  that  he  him- 
self was  constantly  breaking  the  Second  Commandment.    It  interested 


478  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

me  to  hear  a  middle-aged  sensible-looking  Sikh  take  the  other  side, 
quietly,  and  with  perfect  good-temper.  Each  of  the  men  afterwards 
accepted  a  Gospel,  one  in  Gurmukhi,  one  in  Urdu.' 

''Feb.  1 8. — I  am  thankful  for  improved  accounts  of  you.  .  .  .  We 
have  had  rather  an  eventful  week  for  Batala.  ...  On  Monday  the 
dear  Bishop  came  in.  Herbert  asked  me  to  take  luncheon  with  him 
on  Tuesday.  It  was  very  nice  ;  just  the  Bishop,  Herbert,  and  four 
nice  Native  Christians.  I  was  the  only  lady.  ...  At  half-past  three 
we  had  a  very  interesting  Confirmation  Service  in  the  Church,  to 
which  the  Bishop  drove  me.  He  gave  a  very  nice  address,  which 
Herbert  translated  beautifully  into  Panjabi,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
simple  peasants.  On  the  following  morning  the  Bishop  gave  in 
English  such  a  practical  heart-searching  address  to  us  workers  !  He 
looked  so  earnestly  at  us  ladies,  and  was  evidently  anxious  to  do  us 
real  good.  His  was  no  idle  display  of  eloquence  ;  rather  did  his 
address  resemble  the  admonition  of  a  kind  wise  father.  We  did  not 
see  him  after  we  left  the  chapel.  .  .  . 

*  We  have  had  a  singularly  mild  and  bright  cold  weather.  .  .  .  How 
curious  it  would  be  to  an  English  farmer  to  see  fields  green  with 
corn  in  February, — the  Spring  crop, — and,  at  the  same  time,  other 
bits  of  ground  being  ploughed  up  for  the  sowing  of  another  crop  ! 
There  seems  something  always  growing.  There  are  lovely  roses  and 
fruit  blossoms,  but  the  weather  is  now  comparatively  dark  and  dull.' 

''April  8,  1892. — The  Muhammadans  in  Batala  seem  to  be  in  a 
much  better  humour  than  they  may  be  expected  to  be  during  the 
Ramazan — their  grand  fast.  I  have  visited  a  good  many  Muham- 
madan  Zenanas  this  week  ;  and  in  not  one,  so  far  as  I  remember,  have 
I  heard  a  word  about  the  fast,  which  was  apt  to  make  them  so  bigoted 
and  self-righteous.  No  one  objects  when  I  repeat  in  Urdu  the 
precious  text,  "  By  grace  ye  are  saved,  through  faith,"  etc.  Indeed, 
I    believe   that  a  good   many  Batala  folk  think  that  after  all   our 

religion  is   better  than  their  own.     I  repeat  "God  so  loved  " 

more  often,  I  think,  than  any  other  text ;  and  I  have  not  lately 
heard  the  shocked  exclamation,  "Tauba!  tauba  !"^  Perhaps  it  will 
be  different  to-morrow,  when  I  propose  visiting  two  villages,  which 
were  so  bigoted  and  disagreeable,  that  I  at  one  time  struck  both 
out  of  my  visiting-list.  Minnie  induced  me  to  give  them — at  least 
one  of  them — another  trial,  as  she  had  given  medical  aid  to  the  wife 
of  the  Maulvi  (Muhammadan  religious  teacher  of  the  place),  and 
had  found  him  very  polite.  No  doubt  the  Dispensary  opens  doors. 
1  Deprecating ;  meaning  something  sad,  something  to  be  repented  of. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  479 

I  found  the  Maulvi  bigoted  but  civil,  and  .  .  .  willing  to  receive  a 
New  Testament.  ...  I  enjoy  the  quiet  walk,  and  then  ride  in  my 
duli,  in  the  cool  fresh  morning,  when  I  visit  villages.  The  harvest 
has  commenced.  Here  I  see  fields  of  ripening  corn,  there  the 
scattered  sheaves.  But  the  harvest  is  not  so  plentiful  as  it  was  last 
year.  We  had  too  dry  a  cold  weather ;  not  nearly  so  chilly  as  the 
former  one.  I  am  taking  out  illuminated  texts  just  now.  I  have 
beautiful  ones,  both  in  Persian,  Urdu,  and  Gurmukhi.  It  is  interesting 
to  see  peasants,  somewhat  more  intelligent  than  their  fellows,  spelling 
out  the  precious  verses  from  Scripture.' 

^  April  12.— Precious  darling  Laura,— The  Mail  has  to-day 
brought  me  in  your  letter  of  March  24th  ;  the  first  clear  intimation  of 
the  nature  of  your  illness.  I  will  not  say  that  my  eyes  are  dry.  I  own 
that  the  selfish  thought  arose, — "  Would  that  /  had  had  it  instead  !  " 
And  yet  I  prefer  knowing  the  plain  truth.  I  have  comfort  in  the 
thought,  "  I  am  old  ;  whichever  of  us  is  taken  firsts  the  meeting — O 
what  a  joyful  meeting  ! — may  not  be  far  off !  "  .  .  . 

'  I  am  thankful  that  you  do  not  suffer  greatly.  I  fondly  hope  that 
this  trial  may  be  spared.  I  do  not  feel  inclined  to  add  more.  I  need 
not, — you  know  so  much  of  your  own  loving  Char.' 

TO   MISS   'LEILA'   HAMILTON. 

^  April  13,  1892. 

'  Though  I  wrote  to  your  beloved  Mother  yesterday,  and  shall  only 
be  just  in  time  to  catch  the  post,  my  heart  impels  me  to  send  a  letter 
to  you,  my  dear  affiicted  God-daughter.  I  know  that  you  try  bravely 
to  bear  up  under  your  sore  trial,  so  as  not  to  add  to  that  of  your 
precious  invalid.  ...  I  am  glad  that  I  have  been  told  the  worst.  It 
has  been  good  for  my  soul  !  Only  the  day  before  the  mail  came  in, 
I  had  been  foolishly,  sinfully,  brooding  over  trifles,  till  I  even  showed 
outward  irritation,  instead  of  reflecting  that  small  annoyances  as  well 
as  great  troubles  are  God's  loving  discipline  for  us.  Alas !  that  I  should 
have  shown  temper  !  The  next  day  the  Lord  sent  a  quiet^  holy  sorrow, 
and  it  did  me  good, — tears  were  wholesome, — I  felt  that  I  had  been 
petty  and  irritable,  and  deserved  a  different  kind  of  trial.  I  have  been 
more  under  discipline  since  I  attained  the  age  of  seventy  than  I  have 
perhaps  ever  been  before  in  India.  But  should  trifles  disturb  the 
serenity  of  a  Servant  of  a  Crucified  Saviour  ?  .  .  .  Thinking  of  your 
real  grief,  I  hope  to  be  more  patient  with  petty  annoyances.  .  .  . 

'  Write  freely  to  me,  dear  Leila.  To  help  you  in  your  trouble  will 
not  do  me  harm  but  good.' 


48o  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

'April  IT,  1892.— Beloved  Laura,  "The  Lord  is  Risen  indeed!" 
This  is  the  Easter  greeting,  and  this  is  Easter  morn.  I  shall  soon 
start  for  church  ;  but  first  I  would  remind  my  darling  sister  and  my- 
self of  words  like  the  clarion  of  a  silver  trumpet,  followed  by  the 
sound  of  an  angel's  harp  : — 

'  ' '  The  Lord  hath  triumphed  gloriously ; 
The  Lord  shall  reign  victoriously ! 
Seals  assuring, 
Guards  securing, 

Watch  His  earthly  prison  ! 
Seals  are  shattered, 
Guards  are  scattered, — 
Christ  hath  Risen  !  " 

' ' '  No  longer  then  let  mourners  weep, 
Or  call  departed  Christians  '  dead  ! ' 
For  death  is  hallowed  into  sleep. 
Each  grave  becomes  a  bed. 

'  "  It  is  not  exile — peace  on  high  ; 

It  is  not  sorrow, — rest  from  strife  ; 
To  fall  asleep  is  not  to  die  ; 
To  be  with  Christ  is  better  life ! " 

'  How  beautiful  are  these  lines, — how  true  !  .  .  . 

*  Oh,  what  Heavenly  wisdom  Missionaries  need  !  ...  It  seems  to  me 
that  dear  people  at  home  have  a  very  imperfect  idea  of  Missionaries, 
and,  in  their  prayers,  probably  ask  for  comfort  in  trial  for  God's 
servants,  rather  than  for  the  wisdom  which  is  from  Above, — the 
gentle  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Ask  this  for  me,  my  Laura.  I 
do  get  impatient  sometimes,  and  I  make  mistakes.' 

''May  2,  1892. — Books  are  a  great  enjoyment  when  I  am  alone,  or 
sitting,  as  I  am  at  present,  by  the  bedside  of  one  who  has  been  ill, 
though  now,  thank  God,  recovering.  We  have  had  such  a  sick  house, 
your  Char  keeping  well,  when  it  seemed  as  if  nobody  else  would  ; 

delicate  Miss coming  next  on  the  roll  of  health.     She  has  been 

able  to  take  the  housekeeping,  and  to  help  in  the  nursing,  so  we  are 
getting  on,  and  hope  that  all  will  come  right  soon.  Miss  Dixie  took 
four  children  to  Clarkabad,  and  returned  April  23rd,  quite  ill.  .  .  . 
Miss  Wright  is  nursing  her.  Then  .  .  .  Daisy  and  Miss  Cope's  came 
almost  suddenly  in  from  Futteyghur  ;  Daisy's  fever  had  alarmed  Miss 
Copes.  .  .  .  Miss  Copes  had  her  turn  next,  and  has  suffered  severely. 
.  .  .  Char  has  felt  some  comfort  from  being  of  some  use  here.' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  481 

FROM  THE  REV.   R.   CLARK. 

*  Cheshire,  May  3,  1892. 
*  My  dear  Mrs.  Hamilton, — .  .  .  I  saw  dear  Miss  Tucker  shortly 
before  I  left  Amritsar.      She  is,  as  you  know,  not  strong ;  2  Cor.  iii. 
13,  R.V.,  always  occurs  to  me  when  I  see  her.    God  is  daily  using  her 
to  be  a  blessing  to  us  all' 

C.  M.  T.  TO  MRS.  HAMILTON. 

'  May  8  {Seventy-first  Birthday), 

'  I  am  sure  that  my  precious  Laura  has  been  thinking  of  me  to-day, 
as  I  have  been  thinking  of  her.  .  .  . 

'  I  think  that  it  was  some  time  before  5  a.m.  that  Mr.  Corfield  and 
his  boys  came  to  greet  me  with  a  hymn.  I  was  in  my  dressing-gown, 
but  hastily  popped  on  my  bonnet  and  went  out  to  shake  hands  with 
everybody.  As  it  is  well  known  that  I  do  not  wish  gifts,  and  prefer 
simple  trifles  that  are  useful,  my  presents  were  judiciously  chosen, 
and  are,  to  my  mind,  curiously  symbolical. 

'The  Corfields  gave  me  a  box  of  soap, — fragrant,  and  typical 
of  cleansing.  Miss  Wright,  a  pretty  little  box  of  vaseline.  This 
pleased  me  particularly.  I  have  said,  and  I  think  written,  that  every 
Missionary  should  have  a  box  of  ointment,  symbol  of  peace-keeping 
and  peace-making  !  Now  /  have  one  myself.  Minnie  gave  pens. 
May  I  make  a  good  use  of  them  !  .  .  .  Dear  Babu  Singha  has  given 
me  a  hand-pankah  (fan),  which  I  waved  gratefully  in  church  this 
morning.     This  is  an  emblem  of  refreshment  in  oppressive  heat.  .  .  . 

'  Dear  Mr.  Baring's  admirable  building  for  the  Mission  Plough  is 
to  be  opened  to-morrow  by  the  Deputy  Commissioner ;  and  I 
suppose  that  Muhammadan  and  Hindu  big  or  little  wigs  will  be 
present.  I  am  glad  that  my  birthday  falls  on  Sunday ;  so  that  the 
tamasha  is  postponed  till  the  next  day.  There  is  something  solemn 
about  the  Anniversary,  when  one  has  travelled  so  far  on  the  Home- 
ward road.  You  will  feel  this,  darling,  on  the  20th.i  .  .  .  Dear 
Herbert's  sermon  to-day  was  on  "Seekest  thou  great  things  for 
thyself?  Seek  them  not !"  We  should  never  have  known  Baruch's 
failing  but  for  that  warning  word.  I  have  been  very  much  tamed 
down,  dearest.' 

TO  THE  REV.   F.   H.  BARING. 

'•  May  %  1892. 
'  I  must  tell  you  of  the  grand  opening  of  your  beautiful  School 

1  The  sentence  as  to  her  tenth  birthday,  quoted  page  13,  comes  in  here. 
2H 


482  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

building  to-day,  while  the  scene  is  fresh  in  my  mind,  and  before  the 
coming  in  of  the  home  mail.  .  .  .  The  thermometer  has  been  nearly 
92°  in  my  room  this  morning. 

'  The  fine  building  was  well  filled ;  the  part  nearest  the  table  with 
Europeans  and  Baring  boys  ;  the  Plough  boys,  very  numerous,  had 
the  larger  space  ;  and  in  front,  on  chairs,  in  stiff  dignity,  sat  the  city 
magnates.  .  .  .  We  sang  a  hymn  ;  Mr.  Wright  .  .  .  read  a  Psalm  ; 
and,  we  Christians  standing,  Herbert  led  the  prayer.  Then  my 
Nephew  1  made  a  short  speech,  followed  by  a  nice  one  from  dear 
Babu  Singha,  and  a  kind  of  brief,  satisfactory  report  from  Nobin 
Chanda. 

'  And  then  up  rose  the  Deputy  Commissioner,  and,  to  my  great 
surprise  and  great  amusement,  gave,  in  rough  Urdu,  such  a  whipping 
to  Batala  and  her  magnates,  as  I  never  heard  in  a  speech  in  my  life. 
First, — Batala,  poor  Batala,  was  not  like  any  other  city ;  it  was  so 

quarrelsome  !      Clearly,  the  Deputy  Commissioner  (like  Mr.  , 

who  told  me  nearly  sixteen  years  ago  that  Batala  was  the  most 
troublesome  and  litigious  city  in  the  district)  has  no  fancy  for  the 
place.  Then  the  whip  came  down  on  the  shoulders  of  the  poor  rais ;  ^ 
and  it  was  mercilessly  plied.  The  magnates  had  to  bear  the 
indignation  of  the  Englishman  for  doing  their  best — or  worst — to 
prevent  our  getting  ground  for  the  school  or  the  proposed  Mission 
Hospital.  For  whose  benefit  was  the  latter?  asked  the  irate  Deputy 
Commissioner.  Not  for  our  own,  but  that  of  the  women  and  children 
of  Batala  !  In  short,  the  Englishman  whipped  the  poor  magnates, 
till  he  made  them  bleed — in  their  purses.  He  told  them  that  money 
was  wanted  for  school-benches,  etc.,  and  let  them  know  that  their 
aid  would  be  desirable.  Paper  was  on  the  table.  .  .  .  Some  put 
down  rupees;  some  wrote  down  promises.  About  701  were  thus 
collected.  .  .  .  The  whole  thing  was  so  funny  that  I  could  not  help 
being  greatly  amused.  I  wonder  what  the  scolded  Muhammadans 
said,  when  they  went  back  to  their  Zenanas.  .  .  . 

'  Herbert  said  in  his  speech  that  your  fine  building  will  also  be 
used  as  Library,  Reading-room,  and  Lecture-room.  I  think  there 
will  be  a  Sunday-school  also.' 

TO  MRS.  HAMILTON. 

^  May  15,  1892. — My  precious  Laura,  you  wish  me  to  ask  for  you 
more  faith  and  love.  I  ask  more^  even  for  floods  of  joy.  Why  not, 
darling?    "Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive!"  .  .  .  My  trial,  as   regards 

Mr.  Bateman.  2  Chiefs. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  483 

this  matter,  is  different  from  yours.  I  have  to  learn  patience  to 
restrain  yearning  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ.  I  have  twice,  as  it 
were,  in  dangerous  illness, — what  men  call  "  dangerous," — caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  River ;  and  it  seems  glittering  with  sunbeams  !  I 
long  to  cross  it ;  but  I  feel  that  it  would  be  wrong  to  pray  to  go. 
The  Master  only  knows  when  we  are  ready  to  go  Home ;  but  how 
my  spirits  rise,  if  I  see  any  likeHhood  of  the  time  being  near  !  I  do 
not  feel  this  at  present,  for  I  have  such  a  good  constitution.  Three 
out  of  four  of  my  Mission  ladies  here  have  been  seriously  ill ;  with 
the  fourth  I  can  see  that  it  is  a  weary  struggle  to  get  on  ;  and  I,  an 
aged  woman,  am  not  ill  at  all !  I  do  not  suppose  that  any  of  the  four 
really  wish  to  quit  the  field — or  the  school.  The  one  who  does  may 
be  kept  long  at  her  post.  None  can  tell !  I  fall  back  on  "  The 
Lord  knows  best." ' 

'  May  20. — This  is  my  own  beloved  Laura's  Birthday, — a  day 
which  Char  is  not  likely  to  forget.  Sweet  peace  and  joy  be  yours, 
darling.  You  have  added  to  the  happiness  of  many.  You  have,  as 
it  were,  washed  the  disciples'  feet,  and  you  are  sitting  at  the  Lord's 
Feet.  That  is  what  dear,  saintly  Fanny  described  as  "  the  position 
of  a  Christian."  Is  it  not  a  wondrous  thought  that  you  and  I  may  be 
welcomed  by  such  as  Fanny .?  She  was  not  beautiful  on  earth  ;  but 
how  fair  she  will  be,  raised  "  in  His  likeness  "  !  The  Saviour  will  be 
"  admired  in  His  saints," — a  very  remarkable  expression,  and  a  sweet 
subject  for  thought.  There  is  so  much  in  us  now  not  to  be  admired  ; 
but  when  He  comes  to  make  up  His  jewels,  all  will  be  bright  and 
fair.  .  .  . 

'This  has  been  a  particularly  hot  season.  .  .  .  You  would  think  91° 

warm  in  a  bedroom  at  night.      Miss and  Daisy  sleep  out  on 

the  roof :  but  I  think  myself  too  old  for  the  chance  of  a  midnight 
scramble  in  my  night-clothes,  carrying  my  bedding  down  an  outside 
stair,  should  a  dust-storm  or  thunder-storm  come  on.  I  keep  on  the 
prudent  side,  which  is  z;^side.  ...  A  Sunday-school  has  been  opened 
in  Mr.  Baring's  beautiful  new  School-house.  Attendance  is  of  course 
voluntary ;  and  Mr.  and  Miss  Wright,  who  have  started  the  Sunday- 
school,  and  who  only  expected  to  find  about  twenty  boys,  were 
pleased  to  find  about  sixty  pupils  ;  not  only  the  "  Plough  "  boys,  but 
their  teachers.  Was  not  this  grand  ?  .  .  .  I  hope  that  dear  Francis' 
new  building  will  be  one  of  the  best  means  of  bringing  hard-hearted 
Batala  to  the  knowledge  of  the  Saviour.  The  laddies  are  often  not 
hard  at  all,  but  pleased  and  eager  to  hear  about  the  Christian  Faith 
The  next  generation  may  be  very  different  from  the  present  one.' 


484  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

^  May  29. — Do  not  regret  having  toM  me  about  your  state  of 
health.  I  like  to  know  the  truth,  and  at  my  advanced  age  may  well 
face  it.  Whether  my  darling  Laura  or  myself  be  taken  firsts  the 
remaining  one  will  have  comfort.     It  is  but  a  "little  while" — 

'  "Till  He  come  !     O  let  the  words 
Linger  on  the  trembling  chords, 
Let  the  little  space  between 
In  their  golden  light  be  seen  !  "  ' 

Early  in  June  Miss  Tucker  took  the  long  journey  to 
Simla,  accompanied  part  of  the  way  by  Dr.  Weitbrecht, 
and  afterwards  by  Dr.  Lankester.  Through  the  thought- 
ful kindness  of  various  friends,  the  journey  was  made  as 
little  fatiguing  to  her  as  possible.  On  her  arrival  she  was 
so  worn  out  as  to  sleep  thirteen  hours,  with  only  one 
break,  but  was  afterwards  none  the  worse.  Writing  of  the 
kind  Cousins  with  whom  she  had  gone  to  stay,  she  says  ; 
'The  boys  are  charming,  so  clever,  bright,  and  loving. 
They  make  of  me  as  much  as  if  I  were  a  pet  Grand- 
mother. I  bought  a  little  toy  for  them ;  and  they  were 
so  much  delighted  with  it,  that  I  must  have  had  between 
the  three  boys  nearly  a  dozen  kisses  for  it.  I  wonder  that 
they  are  so  fond  of  kissing  a  wrinkled  old  face.' 

On  June  17  she  wrote  from  Simla  : — 

'  I  am  treated  here  with  great  kindness  and  consideration.  I  am 
not  pressed  to  exert  myself;  but  of  course  I  take  my  part  when 
friends  come  to  dinner.  To-day  we  are  to  have  four  Calcutta 
Missionary  ladies  for  dinner  and  games.  To-morrow  an  old  friend 
of  mine,  Carry  H.,  and  her  husband,  and  Lord  Radstock.  One 
of  the  most  lovable  guests  that  we  have  had  is  our  own  Bishop  of 
Lahore.     I  am  to  go  to  his  lecture  on  Isaiah  this  evening.  .  .  . 

'There  is  an  excellent  piano  here,  and  dear  Mackworth  Young 
plays  exquisitely.  .  .  .  How  you  would  have  enjoyed  Beethoven's 
Hallelujah  Chorus,  which  he  has  played  to  me  twice  from  memory  ! 
"  Worlds  unborn  shall  sing  His  glory — the  exalted  Son  of  God  !  " 
Do  not  those  words  recall  the  dear  old  Ancient  Concerts  1  Yester- 
day I  was  tempted,  when  alone,  to  open  the  piano  myself; 
and  what  do  you  think  was  one  of  the  things  which  I  sang 
and  played  ?      My  Laura's   "  The   Lord   He   is   my  Strength  and 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  485 

Stay ! "     That  too  reminds  of  old  times.     O  what  will  Heaven's 
music  be ! ' 

The  following  letter,  written  from  Simla  to  Miss  Raikes, 
was  on  the  subject  of  a  translation  into  Bengali  of  her 
little  book,  The  Story  of  Dr,  Duff: — 

'■June  20,  1892. — If  I  have  neglected  thanking  you  for  a  copy  of 
your  translation,  pray  forgive  an  aged  and  half  worn-out  Missionary  ; 
— I  am  seventy-one,  and  in  weak  health.  In  our  Panjab  I  have  no 
intercourse  with  Bengalis,  except  such  as  know  English  more  or  less ; 
and  I  am  not  acquainted  with  a  word  of  the  Bengali  language,  Urdu 
and  Panjabi  being  what  is  spoken,  so  that  I  could  not  myself  judge 
of  your  translation.  At  Simla,  however,  where  I  am  on  a  visit,  I  hear 
that  there  are  Bengalis,  and  I  might  find  some  to  whom  I  could 
present  the  book,  which  has  been  your  labour  of  love.  I  cannot  but 
hope  that  you  have  not  published  2000  copies  at  your  own  expense. 
I  never  do  ;  but  a  Society  prints,  and  takes  the  risk.  If  the  Bengalis 
be  like  the  Panjabis,  it  will  be  difficult  to  sell  so  many  copies  at 
8  annas  each.  If  I  remember  rightly,  my  little  Life  of  Du^  only 
costs  2  annas  ;  and  our  people  think  that  a  good  deal !  But  Bengal 
may  be  more  liberal.' 

The  next  letter — like  one  or  two  on  the  same  topic, 
already  quoted — is  of  peculiar  interest,  because,  some 
three  years  earlier.  Miss  Tucker  had  been  a  good  deal 
exercised  in  spirit  about  the  fact  of  Bishop  French's 
successor  being  a  decided  High  Churchman,  and  had 
more  than  once  written  in  strong  and  melancholy  terms 
to  her  sister  on  the  subject.  The  tone  in  which  she  now 
wrote,  in  1892,  is  remarkable,  as  being  by  no  means  in 
accord  with  her  former  prejudices.  But  Charlotte  Tucker, 
as  I  have  had  occasion  to  remark  before,  was  not  one  of 
those  small-natured  people,  who  always  stick  fast  to  what 
they  have  said,  because  they  have  said  it.  She  was  ever 
ready  for  fresh  light  upon  any  matter.  It  appears  to  me 
that  we  see  here  in  her  some  measure  of  that  widening 
of  spiritual  outlook,  which  ought  to  become  visible  with 
advancing  years  and  with  a  closer  knowledge  of  the  Spirit 


486  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

of  Christ    Probably  she  was  not  herself  definitely  conscious 
of  any  difference. 

^  Simla, /u/y  3,  1892. — My  beloved  Laura,  I  have  just  come  from 
church,  from  partaking  of  Holy  Communion.  Our  Bishop  preached. 
It  was  a  sermon  whose  gist  I  do  not  think  that  I  shall  ever  forget ; 
for  it  presented  a  most  familiar  text  in — to  me — quite  a  new  and  very 
striking  light :  "  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit."  The  Bishop  said 
that  many  persons — I  was  amongst  them — "took  the  Blessing  as 
meant  for  the  /m/ndle";  but  he,  referring  to  the  parallel  passage  in  St. 
Luke's  Gospel,  showed  that  this  is  a  limitation  of  the  meaning.  The 
poor  in  spirit  are  those  who  count  themselves  as  actually  possessors 
of  nothing ;  the  goods  which  are  called  theirs  are  merely  /ent  of  God, 
to  be  taken  up  or  laid  down  simply  at  His  pleasure.  In  the  face  of 
a  large  congregation,  in  gay,  fashionable,  money-seeking  Simla,  our 
Bishop  with  fervent  energy  preached  a  sermon  on  Unworldliness ! 
May  God  write  it  in  the  hearts  of  the  hearers  ! 

'  I  thank  God  for  our  Bishop.  His  influence  is  of  untold  value  ; 
he  is  so  gentle,  courteous,  considerate,  that  he  does  not,  I  should 
think,  usually  give  offence.  I  had  the  enjoyment  yesterday  of,  I 
think,  more  than  an  hour's  tete-a-tete  with  him.  It  interested  me 
much,  for  Bishop  Matthews  never  puts  himself  on  a  pedestal.  If 
his  Episcopal  position  resembles  one,  he  comes  down  at  once,  with 
humility  and  frankness,  and  seems  like  a  brother.  The  Bishop 
never  appears  to  mind  in  the  least  my  not  calling  him  "  lord,"  either 
in  correspondence  or  in  speaking.  One  has  the  impression  that 
he  does  not  care  a  straw  about  it.  I  am  struck  by  the  pains  which 
he  is  taking  about  the  case  of  a  young  Native  Christian.  .  .  .  The 
Bishop  is  investigating  the  matter  with  father-like  interest.  ...  It 
is  a  cause  of  deep  thankfulness  that  European  or  Native  can  appeal 
to  a  good,  wise  Bishop.' 

Miss  Tucker  does  not,  here  or  elsewhere,  state  why  she 
objected  to  calling  a  Bishop  "  my  lord." 


TO  Miss  'LEILA'  HAMILTON. 

'July  3,  1892. 
'We  had  a  Missionary  Meeting  last  week,  at  which  the  most 
striking  speech  was  that  of  Mr.  Lefroy^  of  Delhi.     I  could  not 

1  Later,  an  adopted  Nephew  ;  see  pp.  498-9. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  487 

help  thinking  this,  though  the  Bishop,  Mr.  Young,  and  my  dear 
nephew.  Dr.  Weitbrecht,  spoke  before  him.  In  simple,  manly 
fashion,  as  one  not  thinking  of  human  praise,  Mr.  Lefroy  described 
what  seemed  to  me  like  a  grand  single  combat  between  himself 
and  a  Muhammadan  Hafiz, — one  who  knows  the  whole  Koran  by 
heart — of  great  influence.  The  Hafiz,  a  great  opposer  of  Christianity, 
asked  Mr.  Lefroy  to  have  a  long  discussion  with  him,  not  saying 
that  he  must  go,  or  was  tired,  etc.  Our  champion  accepted  the 
challenge  at  once.  The  Hafiz  appointed  a  mosque  as  the  place  of 
meeting. 

'Mr.  Lefroy  went  at  the  appointed  hour,  and,  to  his  surprise, 
found  about  500  Muhammadans  waiting  for  him.  They  were  very 
attentive  listeners  ;  but  great,  very  great,  must  have  been  the  strain 
upon  the  noble  and  gifted  Missionary.  Till  midnight,  for  about 
five  hours  and  a  half,  in  hot  Delhi,  in  the  fiery  month  of  June,  Mr. 
Lefroy  held  up  the  Christian  Banner  against  the  Hafiz  and  others. 
At  midnight,  after  one  Muhammadan  had  been  arguing  against  our 
Faith,  the  Hafiz  said  to  him  :  "  If  you  can  bring  forward  no  better 
arguments,  /  will  take  the  Missionary's  hand,  and  go  out  with  him  I " 
He  did  not  do  so  then  ;  he  had  not  sufficient  courage  to  face  the 
storm  of  opposition  ;  and  again  he  failed  on  another  occasion,  to 
Mr.  Lefroy's  great  disappointment.  But  after  months,  that  Hafiz 
is  a  Baptized  Christian  now.  God  gave  His  champion  the  victory 
at  last ! ' 


TO  MISS    HOERNLE. 


^/i^ly  18,  1892. 


'  I  am  still,  as  you  see,  at  Simla,  but  expect  to  start  on  my  long 
journey  downhill  on  the  21st.  We  have  had  a  great  quantity  of 
rain.  I  hear  that  Batala  is  flooded,  so  the  heat  will  be  much 
lessened.  .  .  . 

'Yesterday  was  Sunday,  and  the  dear  Bishop  and  a  few  others 
dined  with  us,  and  we  had  nice  hymn-singing  afterwards.  How 
you  would  have  liked  to  have  occupied  my  seat  at  the  dinner- 
table  !  I  was  next  the  Bishop,  and  Dr.  Weitbrecht  sat  just  oppo- 
site. .  .  . 

*  I  need  not  tell  you  that  the  mountains  are  very  beautiful ; 
especially,  to  my  mind,  when  a  white  cloud,  which  has  been,  as 
it  were,  quite  blotting  them  out,  is  lifted,  and  one  beholds  the 
glorious  peaks  and  wooded  valleys,  lovely  in  the  bright  sunshine.     It 


488  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

reminds  one  of  the  American  Poet's  striking  lines  on  a  yet  loftier 
theme, — 

'  "  Soon  shall  the  whole 
Like  a  parched  scroll 
Before  my  amazed  eyes  uproll, 
And  without  a  screen, 
At  a  burst  be  seen, 
The  Presence  in  which  I  have  ever  been  ! " 

'  Ah,  dear  Maria,  well  may  we  exclaim — 

'  "  O  to  be  ready,  ready,  for  that  Day — 

Who  would  not  cast  Earth's  dearest  joys  away !  " ' 


,  TO  MRS.   HAMILTON. 

^Batala,  Aug.  8,  1892. — Daisy  and  I  are  living  in  a  remarkably 
damp  world,  as  beautifully  green  as  green  can  be.  The  rain  is 
pouring  furiously.  My  kahars  had  to  wade  through  water  to  take 
me  to  the  city.  I  had  a  good  fire  in  my  Gurub-i-Aftab  to-day, 
not  for  warmth,  but  to  keep  away  mustiness.  .  .  .  Damp  is  by  no 
means  as  trying  to  me  as  cold,  and  it  is  a  comfort  to  be  in  no 
danger  of  sand-storms.  No  dust  now ;  only  "  water,  water,  every- 
where." Happily  I  cannot  add,  "not  a  drop  to  drink"!  .  .  .  We 
have  quite  a  bevy  of  our  Mission  ladies  up  at  the  Hills.  I  am  very 
glad  that  they  are  there.  Hard-working  Minnie  seems  to  be  enjoy- 
ing herself  so  thoroughly.  Did  I  tell  you  of  a  Hindu  presenting, 
for  her  projected  Hospital,  a  piece  of  ground,  worth  700  rupees? 
Herbert  had  a  meeting  of  principal  Batala  folk ;  and  such  interest 
was  shown  in  Minnie's  work,  that — including  a  hundred  rupees 
from  the  kind  Deputy  Commissioner — 551  rupees  have  been  given 
or  promised  for  the  proposed  Hospital.' 

TO   MISS   EDITH   TUCKER. 

''Aug.  18,  1892. 
*  I  will  tell  you  between  ourselves,  for  I  would  not  trouble  sweet 
Aunt  Hamilton  about  anything,  that,  in  my  old  age,  since  I  have 
attained  seventy,  I  have  had  more  experience  of  difficulties  and 
worries  than  perhaps  at  any  other  period  of  my  long  Indian  career. 
I  need  not  describe  the  worries  ;  they  are  things  that  rub  one,  chafe 
one,  make  life's  burden  heavier.  And  why  are  they  permitted, 
darling?  I  think  that  they  keep  us  in  a  more  humble,  clinging 
position.  We  cannot  ask  sympathy  for  such  little  things ;  we  are 
pitied  for  some  troubles ;   others  we  must  keep  to  ourselves,— the 


CHARLOTTE  MARTA   TUCKER  489 

latter  perhaps  try  us  most.  But  the  dear  Saviour  knows !  He 
experienced  daily  trials  of  patience  as  well  as  great  afflictions.  It 
is  good  to  remember  this.  Christ,  in  addition  to  cruel  persecution 
from  open  enemies,  had  to  bear  the  dulness  of  perception,  the  weak- 
ness of  faith,  the  ambition,  the  tendency  to  quarrel,  of  His  daily 
companions.  If  great  troubles  are  like  the  burdens  which  expand 
into  wings,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  petty  worries  may  turn  into  the 
soft,  downy  little  feathers  which  line  the  wings.  They  make  our 
wings  softer  for  those  whom  we  have  to  shelter  beneath  them.  For 
as  the  Lord  spreads  His  great  Wing  over  us,  He  means  us  to  spread 
our  small  ones  over  others.' 

TO   MISS   L.   V.   TUCKER. 

''Sept.  21,  1892. 

'You  call  me  "Fairy  Frisket,"  dear.  If  I  be  like  a  Fairy,  it  is 
not  pretty  little  Frisket,  but  rather  the  old  woman  of  Nursery 
stories,  with  wrinkled  face  and  high  cap.  Yet  here  I  have  frisked 
to  Futteyghur.  We  have  a  little  Christian  congregation  of  peasant 
converts  here,  who  assemble  twice  a  day  in  a  large,  neat  room, 
which  serves  for  a  church.  It  is  well  matted,  and  has  a  red  curtain 
down  the  middle,  to  divide  the  men  from  the  women.  All  sit  on 
the  ground ;  only  Auntie,  on  account  of  her  age,  is  allowed  a  low 
seat.  It  is  quite  easy  to  me  to  sit  on  the  ground ;  but  to  get  up 
again, — "  there 's  the  rub." 

'"What  o'clock  is  Service?"  I  asked  of  our  excellent  Native 
Pastor.  "Half-past  five  in  the  morning;  afternoon  half-past  five. 
Before  sunrise,  and  before  sunset."  I  thought  half-past  five  a.m. 
rather  early ;  but  of  course  we  accommodate  our  convenience  to 
that  of  the  peasants,  who  have  to  go  to  their  work.  Says  I  to 
Daisy,  "  You  may  trust  me  to  awaken  you  at  five ! "  This  is  no 
hard  matter  to  Auntie !  .  .  .  When  I  sallied  forth  I  could  see  Orion 
in  the  sky.' 

A  few  more  scattered  extracts  from  Miss  Tucker's 
Journal  may  end  this  chapter. 

''Feb.  21,  1892.  Sunday. — The  best  I  have  had  since  Narowal. 
Prayer  seemed  answered. 

'•Feb.  22. — Villages.  Little  B.  H.  Gave  one  Urdu  Gospel  to  a 
young  man.  Some  listened,  but  I  encountered  some  rudeness. 
Almost  pushed  away.      Ladder.      Widow  of  Nain.  .  .  .  Went  to 


490    LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

house  of  Maulvi  F.  ...  He  courteous.     Some  children  rude.     Sent 
him  one  of  Gwynn's  Gospels. 

'  May  3. — Blessed  rain.     Three  invalids  recovering.     Thank  God. 

'' May /:\f. — Plough.  Subject  Passover.  K.  very  nice.  Gave  Gur- 
mukhi  Primer.  Saw  P.  D.  .  .  .  Remembers  Maria.  Wants  to  learn 
Urdu.  Had  good  conversation  with  S.  .  .  .  Saw  pretty  bibi  and 
nice  brother.  He  read  first  part  of  Acts  ii.  I  lent  him  Day- 
break. 

^  May  29. — Too  poorly  to  go  to  early  church. 

''June  I. — Too  poorly  to  go  out.     Wrote  to  poor,  dear  R.  C. 

'■June  3. — Plough.  Short  work ;  very  weak.  Too  weak  and 
poorly  for  work. 

^June  10. — Left  Batala.     Dr.  Lankester  my  escort. 

''June  II. — Reached  Simla,  much  wearied.  Slept  about  thirteen 
hours. 

*  Aug.  3. — A.  B.  Man  sent  me  off  at  once  ;  but  almost  immediately 
recalled  me  ;  and  I  had  a  very  good  talk  with  him. 

'  C.'s  Bibi.     Courteous  and  pleasant. 

*  D.  E.     Good  visit. 
'  F.     Middling. 

'  G.  H.     She  nice  ;  but  grumbling  zemindar  came  in. 

'  Old  J.  indifferent  as  usual. 

'  H.  did  not  see  her,  but  sweet  J.  K.' 


CHAPTER    XX 

A.D.    1892- 1 893 

THE   LAST   GREAT  SORROW 

With  the  coming  of  autumn,  accounts  of  Mrs.  Hamilton's 
state  grew  steadily  worse.  In  the  middle  of  October  Miss 
Tucker  went  for  a  few  days  to  Rawal  Pindi ;  and  the 
last  letter  which  she  received  there,  before  starting  on 
her  return  journey,  prepared  her  for  the  coming  blow. 
Arriving  at  Batala  station  in  the  early  morning,  her  first 
question  was — 

'  Is  there  a  telegram  ? ' 

There  was  a  telegram,  and  it  was  given  to  her  im- 
mediately. Before  seeing  a  word.  Miss  Tucker  knew 
what  the  missive  had  to  tell, — knew  that  her  dearly 
loved  sister  had  passed  away.  She  opened  it,  and  burst 
into  a  flood  of  tears.  Reaching  home.  Miss  Dixie  led 
her  to  her  own  room,  and  there  left  her  for  a  little  while 
alone. 

Probably  no  sorrow  in  all  her  lifetime,  except  the 
death  of  her  Father  and  the  death  of  Letitia,  had  touched 
her  so  closely  as  this  sorrow ;  and  even  they  were  not 
the  same,  because  through  them  she  always  had  still  her 
Laura.  Now  the  sense  of  loneliness  pressed  upon  her 
heavily.  Whatever  she  had  thought,  whatever  she  had 
wished,  whatever  had  aroused  her  interest  or  appealed 
to  her  sympathies,  the  immediate  impulse  had  ever  been 
to  tell  it  to  Mrs.  Hamilton, — perhaps  even  more  during 


492  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

these  long  years  in  a  far-off  land,  than  in  her  English 
life.  But  indeed  from  very  childhood,  from  the  time 
when  Laura  was  a  little  rosy,  sweet-tempered,  merry  maid 
of  four,  and  Charlotte  was  a  wild-spirited,  impulsive,  and 
ambitious  child  of  eight,  the  tie  between  them  had  been 
of  a  very  unusual  nature.  They  did  not  love  merely  as 
sisters,  but  as  the  nearest  and  dearest  of  intimate  personal 
friends.  What  made  the  one  happy  made  the  other  happy. 
What  grieved  the  one  grieved  the  other. 

And  now  for  a  while  the  tie  was  seemingly  broken  ; 
intercourse  was  at  an  end.  True,  Charlotte  Tucker  had 
been  for  sixteen  long  years  and  more  separated  by  land 
and  ocean  from  her  sister.  But  the  communion  of  mind 
with  mind  had  been  incessant  throughout.  True,  the 
break  was  for  a  very  little  while.  But  this  she  could  not 
possibly  know.  Old  as  she  was,  old  in  some  respects 
beyond  her  years,  she  yet  had  a  strong  constitution,  and 
a  marvellous  amount  even  now  of  wiry  vigour.  Weak 
she  might  be,  in  a  sense ;  nevertheless  she  could  get 
through  a  round  of  work  daily  which  few  women  of 
seventy  would  dream  of  attempting.  It  was  well  within 
the  bounds  of  possibility  that  her  life  might  be  extended 
through  another  ten  or  twelve  years,  or  even  longer. 

*  She  felt  her  sister's  death  most  dreadfully,'  one  of  her 
nieces  has  said.  Yet  she  did  not  lie  crushed  beneath  the 
weight  of  her  grief  Work  had  still  to  be  done ;  and 
others  had  to  be  thought  of  and  comforted. 

On  the  very  day  that  she  received  the  telegram  she 
wrote  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's  daughter  a  letter  full  of  sym- 
pathy for  her  niece's  loss,  scarcely  mentioning  her  own. 

'  I  would  take  you  as  it  were  into  my  arms,  .  .  .  and  weep  with 
you,  so  that  I  might  possibly  even  remind  you  of  the  sympathy 
of  the  precious  Mother,  whom  you  have  not  lost,  but  parted  with 
for  a  little  while.  O,  when  you  meet  in  Eternity,  what  a  little 
while  it  will  appear  !  .  .  .  You  have  the  blessing  of  holy  memories  ; 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  493 

you  know  that  you  were  a  great  comfort  to  the  precious  Invalid;  and 
you  have  the  joy  of  hope,  the  hope  of  re-union.  We  are  only  pilgrims 
on  the  same  road  ;  and  one  arrives  before  the  other.  Both  have  the 
same  Home. 

'  "  And  who  can  tell  the  rapture,  when  the  circle  is  complete, 
And  all  the  Family  of  God  around  the  Father  meet  ?  " 

'.  .  .  It  will  be  a  solace  to  you  to  look  after  your  beloved  Mother's 
poor.  I  am  sure  that  many  had  cause  to  bless  her.  All  her  works 
of  love  done  so  quietly  and  unostentatiously  ;  but  every  one  marked 
down  in  God's  "book  of  remembrance."  What  a  wonderful  joy 
the  opening  of  that  book  will  be  !  Little  kindnesses,  acts  of  love, 
words  of  holy  counsel,  all  marked  down,  not  one  forgotten.  .  .  . 
Try  to  realise  your  Mother's  happiness  !  Has  she  not  looked  on 
the  Lord  Jesus,  heard  His  Voice,  received  His  welcome?' 

And  again  on  the  27th  of  October  : — 

'Try,  dear  one,  to  comfort  others  ;  and  then  you  will  find  comfort 
yourself.  This  is  a  world  of  suffering ;  and  the  best  Memorial  to 
your  precious  Mother  will  be  something  that  will  be  a  blessing  to 
others.  To  think  of  what  she  would  have  approved  will  be  a  solace 
to  your  mind.' 

On  the  same  day  she  wrote  to  her  nephew,  the  Rev. 
W.  F.  T.  Hamilton :  '  I  go  on  with  my  daily  Mission 
work  ;  it  seems  what  I  have  specially  to  live  for.  Is  it 
not  possible  that  your  sainted  Mother  takes  an. interest  in 
it  still  ? ' 

In  the  first  letter  to  Mrs.  J.  Boswell,  after  receiving  the 
telegram,  she  spoke  more  openly  of  her  own  feelings  : — 

'  Oct.  23. — .  .  .  Your  letter  to  Lettie,  which  I  saw  at  Pindi,  before 
my  own  followed  me  there,  quite  prepared  me  for  Edith's  thoughtful 
telegram.  I  received  that  telegram  at  the  Batala  station,  after  my 
long  dark  night's  journey  back  from  Pindi.     I  thank  and  bless  God  for 

my  precious  sister's  bliss  ;  but  to  me  the  blank !    I  suppose  that 

the  funeral  will  be  to-morrow  ;  in  thought  I  follow  my  poor  bereaved 
Leila, — but  my  mind  dwells  less  on  the  grief  of  those  left,  than  the 
joy  of  her  who  is  with  her  Saviour.  I  thanked  God  for  her  to-day  at 
Holy  Communion. 

'  I  hope  that  there  will  be  no  unnecessary  gloom  to-morrow.     It 


494  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

seems  to  me  so  incongruous  to  throw  a  heavy  black  pall  over  the 
dear  form,  when  the  spirit  is  wearing  the  shining  white  robe.  I 
hate  black, — the  colour  of  sin  and  spiritual  death  !  My  own  beloved 
sister  had  nothing  to  do  with  either.  My  tears  fall  as  I  write  ;  but 
I  dare  not,  cannot,  murmur  ;  though  life  seems  to  me  a  weary 
pilgrimage.  I  am  very  home-sick,  my  Bella  ;  but  the  Lord  will  call 
me  when  He  knows  that  I  am  ready.  He  gives  me  some  work  to  do 
for  Him.     I  must  live  for  that.' 

And  again,  on  the  4th  of  November  : — 

'  This  has  been  a  year  of  trials.  Since  I  reached  seventy,  I  feel  as 
if  my  path  had  grown  steeper,  and  flowers  wither.  But  when  the 
summit  of  the  Hill  is  reached — what  joy  !  I  can  hardly  help  envying 
my  sweet  Laura ;  and,  oh,  I  am  thankful  that  she  was  spared  acute 
suffering  !  Her  end — as  regards  this  world — was  indeed  peace  ;  her 
happiness  will  be  never-ending.  You  see  that  I  am  again  at 
Futteyghur,  for  about  five  days,  to  keep  Miss  Key  company.  ...  It 
was  no  sacrifice  to  me  to  come  out  to  the  village,  for  I  was  glad  to 
be  in  a  very  quiet  place  just  now.  Batala  is  too  full  of  friends  and 
too  cheerful  for  my  present  mood.  Work  is  congenial ;  not  cheerful 
meetings.  Mrs.  Corfield  gave  a  sort  of  Concert  on  Wednesday,  to 
which  every  one  was  invited  ;  but  I,  of  course,  stayed  at  home. 
There  is  no  one  but  Daisy  Key  and  myself  here.' 

From  the  Journal  entries  it  is  evident  that  Miss  Tucker 
gave  herself  only  one  clear  day  of  rest — and  that  day  a 
Sunday — for  indulgence  in  any  wise  of  her  sorrow.  She 
had  the  telegram  on  a  Saturday ;  and  on  Monday  the 
usual  round  of  visiting  went  on. 

'  Oct.  20.^ — .  .  .  My  precious  Laura  departed.' 
'  Oct.  22. — Returned  to  Batala.     Telegram.' 

This  is  the  brief  Diary  notice  of  what  occurred. 

The  next  few  months  were  marked  by  no  very  especial 
events ;  only  the  usual  ups  and  downs,  anxieties,  dis- 
appointments,    encouragements,     of     Missionary     work. 

1  This  was  a  mistake.  Mrs.  Hamilton  passed  away  on  October  14 ;  but  the 
telegram  was  not  sent  for  several  days,  to  permit  certain  letters  to  arrive  first. 
Miss  Tucker  failed  to  allow  for  this  fact. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  495 

Missionaries  came  and  went  as  usual ;  and  partings  took 
place,  some  of  which  tried  her  much.  Miss  Eva  Warren, 
who  had  spent  several  weeks  with  her  in  1889,  came  in 
November  to  be  a  permanent  inmate  of  '  Sunshine ' ;  no 
small  pleasure  to  Miss  Tucker.  But  Miss  Warren,  like 
so  many  others,  broke  down  under  the  Panjab  climate  ; 
and  in  the  spring  of  1893  she  had  to  give  up  her  post  and 
return  home. 

In  April  1893  Miss  Tucker  wrote  to  her  niece.  Miss 
L.  V.  Tucker  :^ 

'  Though  I  have  written  playfully  to  your  father,  I  am  not  in  a 
playful  mood.  This  is  such  a  year  of  partings  for  your  poor  old 
Auntie.  You  know  about  my  Louis  and  Lettie  ;  then  energetic 
Minnie  Dixie  left  us  ;  to-day  I  go  to  the  station  for  the  last  look  of 
the  dear,  good  Corfields  .  .  .  and  their  three  fine  children,  accom- 
panied by  Rosa  Singha,  who  has  been  such  a  help  and  comfort  here. 
On  Monday  week  sweet  Eva  Warren,  one  of  my  most  lovable 
companions,  leaves  me.  ...  I  do  not  expect  to  see  her  again  on 
earth.  Next  month  Rowland  Bateman,  my  very  tip-top  favourite 
amongst  all  Missionaries,  is  to  start  for  England.  What  a  blessing 
it  is  that  there  is  One  Friend  Who  says,  "  I  will  never  leave  thee, 
nor  forsake  " ;  "  Even  to  hoar  hairs  I  will  carry  you  " ! ' 

A  few  slight  recollections  of  Miss  Warren's  may  well 
come  in  here.  They  are  of  particular  interest,  being 
almost  entirely  of  this  last  year  of  Miss  Tucker's  life, 
after  the  death  of  Mrs.  Hamilton.  The  two  had  been  very 
little  together  before  November  1892,  when  Miss  Warren 
returned  from  eighteen  months'  sick-leave,  to  be  again  in 
three  months  invalided. 

'  She  was  very  impulsive,'  Miss  Warren  says.  '  We  used 
to  say  of  her  sometimes  that  she  needed  cool  young  heads 
to  guide  her.  Her  energy  was  very  remarkable.  During 
the  last  cold  weather  I  was  with  her,  I  could  see  how 
much  she  felt  the  cold,  but  she  would  not  give  in  in  the 
least.  .  .  .  Being  an  Honorary  Missionary,  she  was  very 
scrupulous  about  not  taking  any  extra  privileges  in  the 


496  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

way  of  holidays.  .  .  .  My  impression  is  that  she  had 
formerly  known  the  language  better  than  she  did  latterly. 
In  spite  of  her  efforts  not  to  forget  what  she  had  learned, 
some  had  slipped  away  from  her.  She  said  to  me  one 
day :  "  I  speak  Hindustani  as  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
used  to  talk  French."  "Oh,"  I  said,  "how  was  that?" 
"  Bravely ! "  she  said.  She  had  a  very  merry  way  of 
laughing,  when  anything  amused  her. 

'  She  said  to  me  once :  "  I  think  what  is  wanted  out 
here  is — Missionaries'  graves.  Not  the  graves  of  young 
Missionaries,  who  have  died  here,  but  the  graves  of  old 
Missionaries,  who  have  given  their  whole  lives  for  these 
people ! "  .  .  .  She  was  very  humble  about  her  own  work, 
and  used  sometimes  to  be  quite  depressed  after  reading 
accounts  of  other  people's  successful  work,  thinking  that 
she  had  met  with  no  success.' 

Miss  Warren  relates  also  how  she  would  not  unfrequently 
say :  '  So-and-so  is  one  of  those  people  who  think  me  a 
great  deal  better  than  I  am.'  Her  conversation  was  still 
very  bright  and  full  of  interest ;  the  active  mind  had  by  no 
means  parted  with  its  vigour.  Sometimes  she  would  talk 
eagerly  about  old  days,  and  tell  stories  of  the  Duke  of 
Wellington,  a  subject  which  always  aroused  her.  Or  again 
she  would  plunge  into  the  topic  of  Shakespeare's  Plays. 
Or  she  would  read  some  of  her  favourite  Spurgeon's 
Sermons.  Another  pet  book  of  hers  was  Baxter's  Saints' 
Rest;  and  this  she  read  through  with  Miss  Warren. 
Occasionally  still  she  would  read  aloud  one  of  her  own 
stories  in  the  evening.  Happily,  she  retained  her  old  love 
of  games ;  and  they  must  have  been  a  great  relaxation 
after  the  hard  day's  work.  Sometimes,  when  Miss  Warren 
had  been  reading  or  studying,  she  would  say :  '  Now  you 
must  come  and  frisk  a  little ! ' 

The  old  untidiness  in  dress  had  never  been  overcome ; 
and  the  mixture  of  colours  was  often  remarkable.      But 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  497 

though  the  clothes  might  not  be  artistically  chosen,  or  put 
on  with  great  neatness,  they  were  always  daintily  clean, — 
no  matter  how  many  years  they  might  have  been  in  use. 

Thin  and  fragile-looking  as  Miss  Tucker  had  always 
been,  she  was  by  this  time  hardly  more  than  mere  skin 
and  bone;  and  her  face  was  singularly  covered  all  over 
with  fine  wrinkles.  This  it  was,  no  doubt,  which  helped 
to  give  her  the  appearance,  spoken  of  by  so  many,  of 
being  far  older  than  she  really  was, — rather  like  ninety 
than  like  seventy.  The  vigour  and  energy  which  she  still 
retained  were,  however,  certainly  not  like  ninety, — or  even 
like  seventy. 

Here  are  a  few  more  selections  from  the  Journal  in  the 
year  1893, — the  closing  year  of  Charlotte  Tucker's  Indian 
life  :— 

''Feb.  21. — Village.  B.  Saw  fourteen  girls  ;  only  eleven  worthy  of 
being  counted.  Heard  of  five  more.  C.  D.  Did  not  see  him,  but  E., 
F.,  and  another  familiar  face.  Men  and  women  listened  to  story 
of  Knocking,  etc.  Some  man  said,  did  not  understand  me.  I 
repeated  John  iii.  16,  and  asked  E.  to  repeat  it  too.  He  did  so,  and 
no  one  could  pretend  not  to  understand.  I  asked  E.  to  instruct 
them  ;  he  said  simply  that  it  was  difficult  for  a  Hindu  to  teach  about 
Christ,  and  twice  said  that  a  Christian  preacher  should  be  sent. 
Hindu  Bibis  nice.  Seeing  the  picture  of  Knocking,  they  seemed  to 
understand ;  and  one  or  two  appeared  to  have  opened  the  door  of 
the  heart.  .  .  .' 

''Feb.  22. — G.  H.  Gentle,  pleasing.  I  lent  her  Stories  for 
Women.  J.  nicer  than  I  have  ever  found  her.  K.,  a  delightful  visit. 
Her  husband,  L.  M.,  a  fine-looking  man,  has  returned,  and  the 
family  are  so  happy.  I  saw  first  one,  then  another  child,  on  the 
father's  knee ;  the  sweet  wife's  face  is  full  of  pleasure.  L.  M.  says 
that  he  is  going  to  be  a  Christian.  .  .  .  His  brother,  N.  O.,  seems  a 
thoughtful,  nice  man.  He  is  puzzled  about  God's  having  a  Son,  but 
told  me  that  he  did  not  ask  questions  for  controversy,  but  wishing 
to  be  instructed.  .  .  .' 

'  March  27.— Village.  P.  Sirdar's  house.  Pretty  bibi,  not  attentive, 
and  bhatija  ill-mannered.  Other  boys  listened,  specially  nice  R. 
2  I 


498  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

.  .  .  Take  more  Urdu  and  Gurmukhi,  and  a  little  Hindi  next  time 
Gave  three  Gospels  and  other  books.    Weather  cold.' 

*  J/<2y  19. — S.  T.  Charming.  U.  V.  sixteen  years  old.  Appears  to 
be  the  wife  of  the  uncle  of  some  and  grandfather  of  others,  in  the 
house.  .  .  .  Has  Gospel  and  Pilgrim^s  Progress.  Read  and  trans- 
lated to  me  some  pages  of  latter,  with  great  emphasis.  Seems  a 
believer.     I  have  sent  her  Psalms  in  Hindi.  .  .  .' 

'•June  15. — Adopted  Lefroy  as  Nephew.  .  .  .Fancy-fair.' 

''June  17. — With  W.'s  bibi  and  Ayahs,  Ascension  and  Pentecost. 
Evening  walk,  met  two  respectable-looking  men.  Had  Urdu  and 
Hindi  Gospels  in  my  hand.  One  man's  glance  at  Urdu  encouraged 
me  to  offer  it.  Man  much  pleased.  Talked  English  ;  in  some  way 
belongs  to  Viceroy.  Wished  to  give  me  something  for  Gospel.  I 
said  that  I  did  not  sell,  but  gave  it  with  pleasure.  Other  man  readily 
received  Hindi  Gospel.  A  little  farther  met  with  a  curious-looking 
man,  with  appearance  of  a  devotee.  Offered  him  Gurmukhi  Gospel. 
Accepted  eagerly,  and,  to  my  surprise,  took  my  hand,  and  said 
earnestly  in  English,  "  Thanks — dear — Madam  ! "  Lord,  bless  Thy 
Word  ! ' 

''June  27.— Returned  from  Simla.  Happy  journey  downhill  with 
dear  Lefroy.     I  have  left  Batala  work  for  four  weeks  and  four  days. 

''June  28.— Full  of  difficulties.  Lord,  help  me !  CLOSED 
DISPENSARY." 

^  Aug.  31. — .  .  .  Here  closes  August,  a  month  of  Blessings.  .  .  .' 

'Oct.  28.— Village.  P.  started  for  V.  But  all  V.'s  inhabitants 
seemed  to  have  turned  out  for  the  funeral  of  a  young  man.  Probably 
eighty  or  a  hundred  present.  I  turned  to  the  left,  where  about  forty 
women  and  girls  were  standing  or  seated  on  the  ground.  I  repeated 
twice  over  to  them,  not  singing,  a  little  hymn  which  I  had  made ; 
also  the  precious  verse,  "  God  so  loved."  Had  not  only  good 
listening,  but  some  of  the  women  repeated  after  me  the  burden  of 
the  hymn.  I  had  chest-cold,  so  could  not  have  sung  without 
coughing.' 

The  last  page  of  Miss  Tucker's  Diary,  which  follows 
immediately  after  this  entry  of  October  28,  is  reproduced 
in  facsimile. 

Writing  to  Miss  Minnie  Dixie  on  July  21,  1893,  she 
asked  :  *  Have  you  heard  that  I  have  a  new  nephew,  Mr. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  499 

Lefroy?  He  is  Irish,  of  Huguenot  descent.  .  .  .  He  is  a 
gifted  man,  and  a  devoted  Missionary.'  Mr.  Lefroy, 
belonging  to  the  Cambridge  Delhi  Mission,  which  is  in 
connection  with  the  S.P.G.,  has  been  mentioned  in  an 
earlier  letter  as  arguing  for  over  five  successive  hours 
with  Muhammadans  in  a  mosque.  This  was  probably 
the  latest  of  her  numerous  Indian  '  adoptions.' 

She  was  for  months  in  much  trouble  about  the 
Dispensary,  as  it  seemed  impossible  to  find  any  one, 
European  or  Indian,  capable  of  undertaking  it  and  also 
free  to  do  so.  The  attendance  had  been  good ;  often 
more  than  a  hundred  women  in  one  day  coming  for  help  ; 
and  Miss  Tucker  was  exceedingly  desirous  to  keep  it  open. 
But  so  many  had  broken  down,  or  were  absent  on  fur- 
lough, that  for  a  while  the  closing  proved  unavoidable. 

That,  from  time  to  time.  Miss  Tucker  suffered  from 
depression  and  moods  of  sadness,  there  can  be  no  question. 
She  never  allowed  such  moods  to  interfere  with  her  work  ; 
but  she  was  not  always  in  a  state  of  high  spirits  and 
rejoicing.  If  nothing  else  showed  this,  it  would  be  plain 
from  certain  brief  passages  in  her  journal,  occurring  at 
intervals, — sometimes  at  long  intervals.  Such  passages  as 
these  speak  plainly  : — 

'  1 883. — I  have  suffered  a  good  deal  from  bodily  languor  and  mental 
depression.'  '  1888.  Depression  has  overtaken  me.  Thank  God, 
not  doubt  or  despair.'  '  1891.  Felt  the  weight  of  years  much  ;  work 
a  struggle.'  '1892.  I  begin  my  seventy-second  year  with  a  sense 
of  weakness  almost  amounting  to  exhaustion.' 

But  these  and  others  of  the  same  description  were 
exceptional.  In  a  general  way  her  steadfast  courage  and 
cheerfulness  were  remarkable. 

On  the  30th  of  August  1893  she  wrote  to  Mr.  Bateman 
in  a  strain  as  cheery  as  ever,  despite  the  weight  of  years 
and  worries : — 

*  O  MY  DEAREST  ROWLAND,— So  youtake  to  lecturing  your  ancient 


500  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Auntie,  because  she  has  come  down  to  the  Plains,  where  even  an  old 
woman  is  needed^  instead  of  being  a  weak,  languishing,  fine  lady  up 
at  Simla,  where  she  was  not  needed  one  bit.  Why,  I  am  ever  so 
much  more  frisky  here,  more  cheerful  and  well,  as  well  as  more 
useful.  Barring  a  few  infirmities  of  age,  I  am  in  as  good  health,  I 
think,  as  I  ever  was  in  England.  I  paid  a  good  visit  to-day  to  a 
village  about  four  miles  off,  and  am  none  the  worse.  Why,  Rowland, 
I  am  actually  the  only  Missionary,  man  or  woman,  now  in  Batala  ; 
and  I  have  not  dear  Babu  Singha,  for  he  is  at  Chamba.  Who  would 
there  be  to  escort  our  little  train  of  bibis  and  bachelors  to  Chapel 
every  afternoon,  if  an  old  dame  were  not  here  ?  I  feel  like  a  hen 
with  chickens  ;  and  Herbert  said  that  we  look  like  a  school.  We  are 
sometimes  the  better  part  of  the  congregation ;  for  we  have  little 
girls  home  from  school,  and  expect  more  here,  and  two  little  boys 
also  from  Narowal.  Batala  without  a  Miss  T.  would  be  like  a  teapot 
without  a  top. 

'But  you  must  not  fancy  that  I  am  alone.  Mr.  Clark  has  con- 
siderately sent  me  a  lovely  young  German  lady,  to  keep  house  for  me, 
which  she  does  very  nicely,  and  I  am  becoming  a  little  fatter.  I 
often  take  her  to  Zenanas  with  me  ;  but  there  she  is  rather  a  hindrance 
than  a  help.  .  .  .  People  will  stare  at  her,  instead  of  listening  to  me. 
She  cannot  help  being  attractive.  She  is  very  happy  with  me  ;  but 
of  course,  as  she  does  not  do  Mission  work,  this  arrangement  must 
not  continue  after  Miss  Clarke  comes  back  from  the  Hills. 

'  Now  I  hope  that  you  are  satisfied,  dear  Rowland,  that  there  has 
been  no  foolish  imprudence,  or  worshipping  of  her  old  broken  net,  on 
the  part  of  your  ever  attached  Auntie. 

'Kind  love  to  Helen.  Mr.  Gray  is  to  come  for  next  Sunday's 
services  ! ' 

On  the  13th  of  October,  in  a  letter  to  Miss  Edith 
Tucker,  she  observed  :  '  I  have  such  a  nice  Missionary 
companion.  Miss  Gertrude  Clarke.  .  .  .  Batala  is  filling 
again  ;  it  was  so  empty  during  the  holidays,  that,  had 
not  Miss  L.  been  sent  to  keep  me  company,  I  should 
have  had  no  European  within  twenty  miles.  I  was  sole 
Missionary  here.' 

On  the  31st  of  the  same  month,  October,  she  wrote  to 
Miss  Minnie  Dixie  : — 

'  I  made  a  grand  expedition  last  week, — I  have  still  four  days  of 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  $oi 

my  six  weeks'  holiday  left  \  but  as  we  enter  November  to-morrow, 
I  am  not  likely  to  take  them.  I  actually  went  to  Bahrwal,  and  saw 
the  Consecration  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Perkins'  choice  little  church  ; 
simple,  but  in  nice  taste.  .  .  .  The  dear  Bishop  was  of  course  there, 
and  held  a  Confirmation  Service  in  the  afternoon,  at  which  about 
twelve  or  fourteen  Peasant  converts  were  received.  I  saw  a  good 
many  friends.  .  .  . 

'  I  send  you  a  little  hymn,  which  you  may  like  to  sing.  It  is 
perhaps  the  last  thing  which  may  be  composed  by  your  affectionate 
aged  Auntie,  C.  M.  Tucker.' 

From  these  words  it  would  seem  as  if  already  some 
dim  sense  had  come  that  her  time  on  Earth  was  nearly 
over.  She  was  indeed  drawing  very  close  to  the  dark 
River,  which  to  her  did  not  look  dark  but  bright ;  and 
perhaps  her  eyes  had  already  caught  the  'glitter'  of  its 
waters.  A  friend,  writing  soon  after,  observed  :  '  She  had 
been  growing  more  and  more  conscious  of  weakness,  if 
not  actually  weaker,  and  was  looking  forward  eagerly  to 
release.'  In  the  month  of  November  came  what  she  was 
wont  to  call  '  her  Indian  Birthday,' — the  day  on  which  she 
had  first  landed  on  Indian  shores,  eighteen  years  before. 
And,  as  she  soon  after  said,  when  ill,  though  not  yet  so  ill 
as  to  cause  anxiety  :  '  When  the  Anniversary  of  my  arrival 
in  this  country  came  round  this  year,  I  felt  that  my  work 
was  done,  and  that  I  should  not  live  to  see  another.' 

To  some  minds  it  may  appear  as  if  this  perpetual  longing 
for  death  contained  something  of  a  morbid  and  unhealthy 
nature.  No  doubt,  as  a  general  rule,  it  is  perfectly  natural 
to  cling  to  life,  to  shrink  from  death  ;  and  where  a  desire 
for  the  latter  exists,  it  often  is  romantic  and  unnatural, 
or  else  it  arises  from  impatience  of  life's  troubles,  and 
from  a  wish  to  escape  those  troubles.  This,  however, 
was  not  the  case  with  Charlotte  Tucker.  Her  romance 
was  never  unhealthy  romance ;  she  was  not  cowardly,  nor 
was  she  in  the  least  morbid.  On  the  contrary,  she  was 
thoroughly  healthy,  high-spirited,  vigorous  in  body  and 


502   LIFE^AND  LETTERS  OF  CHARLOTTE  M.  TUCKER 

mind, — exceptionally  vigorous  for  her  years,  through  the 
greater  part  of  middle  life  and  old  age,  till  within  a  short 
time  before  her  death.  And  although  she  had  certainly 
numerous  trials  in  the  course  of  her  seventy-two  years, — 
as  who  has  not  ? — hers  was  in  many  respects  a  very  happy 
life.  She  had  freedom  from  money  cares  ;  she  had  plenty 
of  interests ;  she  had  success  in  her  pursuits ;  she  had 
abundance  of  loving  and  steadfast  friends  ;  she  had,  above 
all,  one  most  satisfying  intimacy  ;  and,  in  addition  to  these 
things,  she  had  a  natural  buoyancy,  a  keen  sense  of  fun, 
a  ready  appreciation  of  the  ridiculous,  which  in  themselves 
would  brighten  life,  and  which  are  not  characteristics 
usually  found  in  morbid  and  self-centred  people. 

What  was  unusual  in  her  was  the  strong  and  intense, 
realisation  of  the  Other  World.  Spiritual  things  to  her 
were  absolutely  real.  That  which  is  unseen  was  to  her  as 
if  seen.  The  love  of  Christ  was  more  to  her  than  the  love 
of  all  earthly  friends.  Paradise  was  more  to  her  than 
Earth.  It  was  not  that  she  did  not  love  Earth,  but  that 
her  love  for  Heaven  was  greater.  It  was  not  that  she 
could  not  enter  into  the  bright  things  of  this  world,  but 
that  she  found  the  things  of  the  Other  World  brighter 
still.  She  could  never  be  satisfied  with  the  present  life ; 
because  she  was  always  craving  for  the  higher  existence, 
always  longing  to  rise  '  nearer — nearer '  to  God.  She  was 
like  a  caged  lark,  impatient  for  freedom.  And  at  last, 
after  all  these  years  of  waiting,  the  time  was  come. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

A.D.    1893 

THE   HOME-GOING 

Up  to  the  end  of  October  Miss  Tucker  had  seemed  to  be 
on  the  whole  much  the  same  as  usual ;  though  more  than 
one  watcher  had  noted  a  gradual  failure  of  strength.  The 
expedition  to  Bahrwal,  for  the  Dedication,  proved  to  be 
too  much  for  her  powers  ;  especially  as  she  insisted  on 
returning  to  Batala  the  same  evening,  so  as  not  to  break 
into  another  day's  work. 

At  the  time  she  appeared,  as  Mrs.  Wade  afterwards 
wrote,  'though  frail,  wonderfully  bright,  .  .  .  full  of 
conversation  while  talking  to  the  Bishop  and  others.' 
When  the  'feast'  took  place  she  sat  upon  the  ground 
among  the  Indian  Christians,  after  her  old  style,  utterly 
refusing  a  chair.  Some  who  were  present  left  in  the 
middle  of  the  day,  so  soon  as  the  Dedication  was  over ; 
but  Miss  Tucker  remained  till  the  evening,  so  as  to  be 
present  at  the  second  Service.  Notwithstanding  her 
brightness,  Mr.  Clark  was  much  impressed  with  the 
alteration  in  her  look  ;  and  he  has  since  said  that  *  she 
evidently  believed  it  to  be  her  leave-taking.' 

The  day  ended.  Miss  Tucker  seemed  very  much 
exhausted  ;  and  when  returning  by  rail,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Wade,  she  lay  down  on  the  seat  to  rest.  The  result  of 
this  expedition  was  a  severe  cold,  with  much  hoarseness  ; 
and  though  her  daily  work  went  on  as  usual,  she  must 

503 


504  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

have  felt  very  poorly.  Mr.  Clark  speaks  of  her  as,  a  few 
days  later,  passing  through  Amritsar,  and  calling  to  see 
himself  and  his  wife.  So  ill  did  he  think  her  looking,  that 
the  expression  he  makes  use  of  is  :  '  Death  was  even  then 
written  on  her  face.' 

Others  do  not  appear  to  have  been  so  soon  alarmed. 
On  November  13,  writing  to  Miss  Dixie,  Miss  Tucker 
mentioned  casually,  '  I  have  a  cold,'  as  an  excuse  for 
her  shaking  hand;  and  said  no  more.  But  it  was  'the 
beginning  of  the  end.' 

About  this  time  she  kindly  took  in  a  friend,  Mrs.  C , 

who  seemed  poorly  and  in  need  of  change ;  and  who, 
after  coming  to  '  Sonnenschein,'  proved  to  be  seriously  ill. 
Miss  Tucker  sat  much  with  her,  in  a  hot  room  ;  going  out 
from  thence,  late  each  evening,  into  the  night  air,  to  reach 
her  own  little  dwelling.  On  the  nth,  two  days  before  her 
letter  to  Miss  Dixie,  she  confessed  to  pain  in  the  side, 
telegraphed  for  a  nurse,  and  went  to  bed.  Next  day, 
Sunday,  she  was  up  again,  and  at  Church.  Then  the 
Nurse  appeared,  to  be  sent  off  on  Monday,  in  charge  of 

Mrs.  C ,  to  Amritsar ;  after  which  again  Miss  Tucker 

went  down. 

Dr.  Clark  came  to  see  her ;  and  though  the  fever  was 
not  very  high,  and  no  especial  anxiety  was  felt,  it  was 
decided  that  she  ought  to  go  to  Amritsar  to  be  nursed — 
a  Doctor  there  being  on  the  spot.  Miss  Tucker  was  much 
grieved  at  the  decision.  She  longed  to  remain,  and  to  die 
in  her  dear  Batala ;  and  even  then,  evidently,  she  was 
making  up  her  mind  to  the  likelihood  of  death.  But, 
however  unwillingly,  she  submitted  to  the  wishes  of 
others,  and  went. 

The  journey  did  no  harm  ;  and  on  arrival  at  Amritsar 
Miss  Tucker  was  most  tenderly  nursed  by  her  friend.  Miss 
Wauton,  and  others,  with  the  help  soon  of  a  regular  nurse. 
But   though    the    fever    yielded    to    remedies,   and    the 


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F  A.  L.O.  E.'S   DIARY 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  505 

bronchitis  improved,  both  the  cough  and  pain  becoming 
for  some  days  better,  she  was  worn  out,  and  had  no 
rallying  power.  The  weakness  was  extreme,  and  the 
dislike  to  food  could  not  be  overcome.  Steadily  and 
slowly  she  sank,  lasting  just  three  weeks  from  the  date  of 
the  latest  tremulous  entry  in  her  Journal. 

Dr.  Arthur  Lankester^  had  written  on  the  27th  of 
October :  '  Sorry  to  say  Auntie  has  taken  a  severe  chill 
at  Bahrwal ;  she  looks  very  frail  and  weak ;  only,  she 
is  so  wonderful  that  we  all  hope  she  will  soon  be  about 
once  more,  to  cheer  us  all  with  her  bright,  sweet  smile.' 
He  wrote  again  on  Nov.  22  :  '  Dear  Miss  Tucker  has  been 
moved  to  the  Mission-house  here,^  and  I  am  thankful  to 
be  allowed  to  be  with  her.  She  is  very,  very  ill,  but  so 
bright,  and  longing  to  go  "  Home."  I  fear  she  is  fast 
sinking.  It  is  a  great  privilege  to  be  allowed  to  help  look 
after  her.'  And  again,  on  Nov.  30 :  '  Auntie  sinking  fast ; 
the  end  can't  be  far  off.  O  what  joy  and  glory  are 
waiting  for  her ! — for  us  a  terrible  blank  that  nothing  can 
fill.     No  one  could  be  quite  like  her.' 

The  last  dictated  letter  of  Charlotte  Tucker  was  to  her 
niece,  Mrs.  J.  Boswell,  on  the  21st  of  November : — 

'  My  dearest  Bella  Francis, — You  will  all  like  to  know  how  I 
am  getting  on.  I  have  come  again  to  House  Beautiful  in  Amritsar, 
where  the  four  sweet  damsels,  Faith,  etc.,  glide  about  to  see  to  my 
comfort.  Yesterday  dear  Gertrude  joined  us,  and  also  Miss  B.  A., 
so  there  is  a  regular  bevy.  Dr.  Clark  said  yesterday,  with  a  very 
broad  smile,  that  we  were  getting  on  ;  but  I  cannot  quite  see  the  pith 
of  this.  When  a  worn-out  ekka  horse  tumbles  down  on  the  road,  and 
no  one  can  make  him  get  up,  one  can  scarcely  say  that  he  is  getting 
on.  Getting  up  must  come  first.  I  ought  to  be  very  thankful  for  so 
much  kindness ;  but  you  can  imagine,  darling,  that  when  I  hope  to 
soar  on  eagle's  wings,  it  is  rather  a  trial  to  have  the  doctor  tie  them 
down  so  tightly,  that  when  I  hope  to  fly  I  cannot  even  creep. 

*  I  fancy  this  has  been  an  attack  of  bronchitis  and  influenza. 
Now  this  is  difiicult  to  me  even  to  dictate.  Would  you  have  little 
1  Missionary.  2  At  Amritsar. 


5o6  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

bulletins  roughly  printed  on  my  account,  and  put  them  in  envelopes, 

and  send  them  to ? ' :  after  which  follows  a  list  of  relatives  and 

friends  in  England,  together  with  one  or  two  short  messages,  and  a 
request  that  they  would  ask  for  her  '  patience  and  perfect  submission.' 

The  day  succeeding  Miss  Tucker's  arrival  in  Amritsar 
Mrs.  Wade  came  to  see  her  ;  and  during  either  that  call  or 
the  next  Miss  Tucker  put  the  question, '  Is  my  face  altered?  ' 
Mrs.  Wade  hesitated,  unable  to  deny  that  she  saw  a 
change.  Miss  Tucker  immediately  added  :  '  Don't  mind 
telling  me.  It  is  harder  to  be  patient  on  this  pillow  than  to 
go  inside  the  Golden  Gate.'  And  to  Miss  Jackson  she  said  : 
*  To  depart  and  to  be  with  Christ  is  so  very  much  better !' 

Many  friends  came  to  ask  after  her  ;  but  on  account  of 
her  excessive  feebleness  a  very  limited  number  could  be 
admitted  ;  only  one  or  two  in  the  day,  and  merely  for  a 
few  minutes  each. 

One  day,  on  hearing  Mr.  Clark's  voice  outside,  she  said, 
'  Is  that  Mr.  Clark  ? '  They  told  her  that  she  must  not 
see  any  one  ;  she  was  too  weak.  '  But  I  must  see  him  ! ' 
she  replied  ;  and  then,  '  I  will  see  him  ! ' — with  a  flash  of 
the  old  determination.  When  he  was  brought  in  she  said 
to  him  :  '  I  am  dying  !  I  know  it.  I  am  very  happy, — 
in  perfect  peace, — without  a  doubt  or  a  care, — but  I  have 
none  of  the  rapturous  feelings  of  triumph,  which  I  have 
rather  looked  forward  to  ! '  Then  she  added  :  '  It  is  best 
as  it  is ! '  The  next  day  and  the  day  after,  when  Mr. 
Clark  was  again  admitted,  she  was  both  times  too  ill  to 
say  anything. 

She  was  indeed  this  time  far  too  entirely  worn  out  and 
exhausted,  both  bodily  and  mentally,  for  any  shout  of  joy. 
All  was  quiet  trust,  perfect  confidence  ;  but  eagerness 
and  exultation  were  physically  out  of  the  question.  She 
could  only  wait  peacefully  to  be  carried  through  the  waters 
of  the  River.  Rapture  would  come  when  she  reached  the 
Other  Side. 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  507 

Still,  there  was  the  same  longing  as  ever  to  go.  Several 
times  she  said  :  *  Do  not  pray  that  I  may  stay  here.'  And 
another  time  :  *  Christ  has  abolished  death  !  I  am  longing 
to  go  Home  1 ' 

On  Sunday,  November  26th,  Mr.  Wade  came  to  her 
room  for  Holy  Communion  ;  Miss  Wauton  and  Miss 
Jackson  being  present.  Miss  Tucker  was  perfectly  clear 
in  mind,  and  able  to  join  audibly  in  the  responses ;  but 
the  after-exhaustion  was  great. 

Sometimes  she  would  speak  lovingly  of  her  friends,  and 
would  wish  that  she  could  see  one  and  another.  '  It  is  a 
pity  Rowland  Bateman  is  not  here,'  she  said.  Also  she 
would  give  directions  for  presents  to  be  sent  to  one  and 
another  after  her  death.  On  the  27th  she  sent  for  Babu 
Singha,  and  mentioned  particulars  as  to  the  manner  in 
which  she  wished  her  funeral  to  be  conducted.  The  boys 
— her  dear  brown  boys,  as  she  had  so  often  called  them — 
were  to  carry  her  to  the  grave,  on  a  native  charpai.  No 
coffin  was  to  be  used  ;  and  the  expenditure  might  not 
exceed  five  rupees.  She  was  of  course  to  be  buried  in 
Batala.  Nobody  was  to  shed  tears  ;  nobody  was  to  put 
on  mourning ;  and  her  own  funeral  hymn,  one  which  she 
had  written  quite  lately  in  Urdu,  was  to  be  sung. 

One  day  Miss  Jackson  repeated  the  hymn,  '  For  ever 
with  the  Lord  ! ' — and  Miss  Tucker  said,  '  That  is  my 
favourite  hymn  ! '  So  it  too  was  afterwards  chosen  to  be 
sung  at  the  funeral. 

On  Wednesday,  November  29,  her  temperature  fell  to 
95°;  and  great  difficulty  was  experienced  in  restoring  it  to 
normal.  Two  days  later  it  fell  again ;  and  this  time  there 
was  no  rally.  The  cough  and  other  symptoms  were  ex- 
ceedingly trying  ;  and  all  Friday  night  she  suffered  greatly 
from  oppression,  restlessness,  and  weariness.  Again  and 
again  she  could  be  heard  to  murmur,  'Quickly  !  Quickly!' 
Nothing  else  that  she  said  could  be  distinguished. 


5o8  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Early  in  the  morning  of  Saturday,  December  the  2nd, 
she  became  more  placid  ;  and  when  asked  if  she  felt  any 
pain  she  made  a  negative  sign.  Dr.  Weitbrecht  came  to 
read  and  pray  with  her.  She  seemed  to  recognise  him, 
and  to  understand  what  he  said  ;  but  she  had  no  power 
to  articulate.  Soon  after  this  unconsciousness  set  in,  and 
lasted  to  the  end,  broken  only  once  by  a  lifting  of  the  eye- 
lids, and  an  upward  look,  as  if  she  saw  something  which 
others  could  not  see. 

At  a  quarter-past  three  in  the  afternoon,  calmly  and 
without  a  struggle,  she  passed  away. 

The  change  which  came  over  her  in  death  was 
remarkable.  A  change  is  often  seen  ;  a  return  sometimes 
to  greater  youth  and  beauty.  Death  smooths  away 
wrinkles,  refines  rugged  features,  sharpens  the  outlines. 
But  in  this  case  the  transformation  was  of  a  rare  type.  *  I 
never  saw  a  face  so  altered,'  wrote  Dr.  Clark,  who  had 
attended  her.  *  It  became  a  face  of  massive  power ;  more 
like  that  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  than  anything  else ; 
the  nose  particularly  so,  and  the  jaw.  A  strong,  massive, 
determined,  powerful  face.  I  suppose  the  power  was 
always  there,  but  masked  by  the  habitual  gentleness  and 
tender  consideration  for  all  around,  which  was  so  beautiful 
a  feature  in  her  beautiful  character.' 

This  allusion  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington  naturally 
recalls  her  ardent  admiration  for  him.  She  would  in  life 
have  probably  counted  no  compliment  greater  than  to 
have  been  called  like  him.  But  the  description  is  singular, 
because  her  features  had  never  been  of  the  same  type  as 
the  Duke's  features.  She  had  not  a  Roman  nose ;  and 
while  many  describe  hers  as  a  '  bright  face,'  '  a  spark- 
ling face,'  *  a  long,  thin  face,'  and  even  in  one  case  '  a 
small  face,'  no  one  ever  uses  such  words  as  '  massive '  or 
'  powerful,'  as  descriptive  of  her  appearance  at  any  period 
of  her  life.     The  touch  of  death  seems  to  have  torn  away 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  509 

a  kind  of  veil,  leaving  bare  the  original  outlines ;  per- 
haps to  some  extent  indicating  what  the  face  might 
have  become,  if  unsoftened  by  the  moulding  influences 
of  discipline. 

Miss  Jackson  wrote  from  Amritsar,  on  Monday,  Decem- 
ber 4th :  '  Yesterday  the  Dead  March  was  played  in 
Church,  and  all  the  congregation  stood.  It  was  announced 
that  all  who  wished  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  dear  face 
could  do  so  at  our  house  at  a  certain  hour  ;  and  about 
sixty  availed  themselves  of  this  permission.'  And  Miss 
Wauton  adds :  'Miss  Jackson  will  have  told  you  that 
many  friends  in  Amritsar  came  on  Sunday  afternoon,  to 
take  their  last  look  at  the  peaceful  sleeper.  The  hands 
were  clasped  as  if  in  prayer.  The  face  was  thin  and 
worn  ;  but  this  only  brought  out  a  clearer  chiselling  of  the 
features  ;  and  the  calmness  of  death  gave  a  grandeur  and 
nobility  to  the  expression,  beyond  anything  we  had  seen 
in  the  face  while  living.  She  looked,  as  one  friend  said, 
"  like  a  Crusader." ' 

On  December  the  4th  they  bore  all  that  remained  on 
Earth  of  Charlotte  Tucker  from  Amritsar  to  Batala.  As 
she  had  forbidden  the  use  of  a  coffin,  the  body  was  laid 
upon  a  small  Native  bedstead,  and,  being  carefully  secured 
in  position,  was  conveyed  thus,  not  by  rail  but  by  road. 
On  reaching  Batala,  the  charpai,  with  its  quiet  burden, 
was  placed  in  the  Church  of  the  Epiphany, — known  col- 
loquially as  '  the  large  Church,'  to  distinguish  it  from 
the  little  School  *  Chapel,' — there  to  remain  till  morning. 
Some  of  the  Baring  High  School  boys  took  turns  in 
watching  beside  the  loved  form  all  night  through. 

Next  day,  Tuesday,  was  fixed  upon  for  the  funeral.  It 
had  been  delayed  unusually  long,  to  allow  friends  from  a 
distance  to  be  present.  A  great  many  came  from  Amrit- 
sar, Lahore,  and  other  stations  ;  and  a  message  from  the 
Bishop  expressed  his  regret  at  being  unavoidably  kept 


5IO  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

away  by  a  Confirmation.  The  Archdeacon  and  the 
Bishop's  Chaplain  were  both  present,  as  also  were  Dr. 
Weitbrecht,  Mr.  Clark,  Mr.  Wade,  Mr.  Mackenzie,  Mr. 
Wright,  Mr.  Wigram,  Mr.  Shireff,  Mr.  Hoare,  Mr.  Cover- 
dale,  and  Mr.  Grey,  all  in  white  surplices.  A  large  con- 
gregation filled  the  whole  Church,  including  Missionaries, 
friends.  Native  Christians,  Non-Christians  of  Batala,  and 
boys  of  both  the  High  School  and  the  '  Plough.'  The 
first  part  of  the  Burial  Service  was  read  there  ;  and  two 
or  three  hymns  were  sung.  Mr.  Clark  preached  a  short 
sermon  from  Acts  i.  8. 

Then  began  the  Procession  from  the  Church  to  the 
little  Christian  Cemetery ;  the  latter  being  close  to  '  Son- 
nenschein,'  and  nearly  two  miles  away  from  the  Church. 
Happily  it  was  a  cool  day ;  and  the  roads  had  been  well 
watered  beforehand.  A  Police-guard  preceded  the  Pro- 
cession. 

First  came  the  surpliced  Clergy ;  then  the  bier,  which 
was  covered  with  a  white  chaddah  ;  while  many  beautiful 
white  Crosses  and  wreaths  sent  by  friends  were  laid  upon 
it.  Some  of  the  older  schoolboys  carried  the  bier,  taking 
turns.  Next  came  the  ladies  and  other  Missionaries ; 
also  the  general  congregation,  and  the  rest  of  the  boys. 
Crowds  of  leading  Batala  men  were  present.  A  letter 
from  Miss  Wauton,  written  at  the  time,  describes  the  scene 
graphically : — 

'  After  the  Easter  hymn,  "  Lo,  in  the  grave  He  lay,"  the  congrega- 
tion then  formed  into  Procession  ;  the  Clergy  first,  then  the  Bier. .  .  . 
The  long  line  of  followers  stretched  out,  till  we  could  scarcely  see  the 
end  of  it.  The  distance  being  about  two  miles,  the  walk  occupied 
more  than  an  hour.  Hymns  were  sung  the  whole  way  ;  and  the  groups 
of  people,  Hindus  and  Muhammadans,  who  lined  the  road  and 
crowded  the  tops  of  the  houses,  as  we  passed  the  city,  seemed  much 
interested  in  looking  on.  Many  of  them,  I  think,  came  as  far  as  the 
Cemetery. 

'  As  we  passed  through  the  gates,  copies  of  a  hymn  were  distri- 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA   TUCKER  511 

buted,  which  the  dear  Auntie  had  composed  about  three  weeks  before 
slje  was  taken  ill.  On  sending  it  to  me  at  the  time,  she  added  in  her 
letter  :  "  Perhaps  you  will  like  to  see  my  little  funeral  hymn.  Perhaps 
it  may  be  sung  when  I  go  to  sleep." 

'We  also  had  the  hymn,  "Jesus  lives";  and  closed  with  her  favourite, 
"  For  ever  with  the  Lord."  Deep  feeling  was  shown  ;  and  many  of  the 
boys  could  scarcely  restrain  their  tears.  We  all  felt  we  had  lost  a 
friend,  such  as  we  should  never  see  again.  The  Mission  is  bereaved, 
— not  only  Batala,  but  the  whole  of  the  Panjab  ;  and  we  all  mourn 
our  loss  together.  .  .  . 

'  Dr.  Weitbrecht  had  arranged  everything  for  yesterday  most 
beautifully.  The  whole  Service  was,  I  think,  in  perfect  accordance 
with  her  wishes  ;  simple,  sweet,  and  solemn,  yet  with  an  element  of  joy 
and  hope  about  it,  which  was  suitable  to  her  bright,  joyous  nature. 
We  could  indeed  give  thanks  for  the  fight  she  had  fought,  the 
course  she  had  finished,  the  crown  she  had  won  ;  and  so  we  laid  her 
down, — till  the  Day  break  and  the  shadows  flee  away.  "  Till  He 
come  ! " ' 

Another  eye-witness,  Mrs.  Wade,  wrote  : — 

'  We  were  very  thankful  that  it  was  possible  to  delay  the  meeting 
at  Batala  till  Tuesday,  as  it  gave  opportunity  for  friends  from  some 
distance  to  be  present.  We  all  met  in  the  Church  for  the  first  part 
of  the  Service  and  sermon  by  Mr.  Clark, — the  dear  familiar  face  no 
longer  among  the  worshippers,  but  in  the  King's  Presence.  .  .  .  The 
walk  from  the  Church  to  the  little  Cemetery,  quite  near  her  own  home, 
is  long,  and  occupied  an  hour ;  during  which  time  many  hymns  of 
faith  and  love  were  softly  sung,  and  at  the  grave  her  own  hymn,  one 
she  had  composed  not  six  weeks  ago  for  her  own  funeral.  .  .  .  Dr. 
Weitbrecht  then  completed  the  Service.  .  .  .  The  silence  of  the  on- 
lookers, as  one  went  towards  the  grave,  was  very  noticeable.  Many 
of  them  felt  that  they  had  indeed  lost  a  friend.  A  large  number  of 
the  Native  gentlemen  of  the  City  were  present  in  the  Church  and 
during  the  Service,  with  reverent  demeanour  ;  and  when  we  had  left, 
I  was  told,  many  of  the  poor  women  came  to  weep  at  her  grave. 

'  We  thank  God  for  all  she  was  during  the  long  life,  and  especially 
in  the  eighteen  years  in  India.  .  .  .  Batala  will  never  be  the  same. 
Many  of  the  elder  boys,  who  carried  her,  were  weeping.' 

And  from  the  pen  of  Dr.  Weitbrecht  we  have  the 
following : — 

'  After  the  Burial  was  over,  I  spoke  a  few  words  about  her  to  the 


512  THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

many  people  who  had  assembled  from  outside,  trying  to  impress  on 
them  the  motive  power  of  her  life  :  "  The  love  of  Christ  constraineth 
us."  After  most  of  the  Clergy  and  visitors  had  left  the  Cemetery,  a 
number  of  women  from  the  city  came  to  take  a  last  look,  and  to  wail 
at  the  grave.  Times  without  number,  gentlemen  of  Batala  and  men 
of  lower  standing  come  to  tell  me  how  she  went  to  their  houses,  and 
sympathised  with  their  wives  and  daughters  in  joy  and  sorrow.  Not 
a  few  will  miss  her  open-handed  charity  ;  and,  far  more,  her  bright, 
ever-ready  sympathy,' 

The  Urdu  hymn,  written  by  Miss  Tucker  for  her  own 
funeral,  has  been  roughly  translated  as  follows  : — 

'  The  beloved  Jesus  sleeps  in  the  grave  ; 
Morn  breaks,  and  He  Who  came  to  save 
Has  risen,  glorious  King  of  Kings, 
Victorious  o'er  all  evil  things. 
It  is  Christ's  power,  Christ's  glorious  Crown  ; 
His  rule  shall  spread  with  much  renown  ; 
Christ  has  risen,  ne'er  to  die  ; 
Hallelujah  !  Victory  ! ' 

One  fact  may  be  mentioned,  as  a  slight  token  of  the 
loving  esteem  in  which  she  was  held.  When  Miss  Wauton 
took  the  hymn  to  be  printed,  the  Manager  of  the  Press, — 
not  himself  a  Christian,  but  one  who  had  known  Miss 
Tucker, — said  immediately,  '  Oh,  are  those  lines  Miss 
Tucker's?  Then  I  will  do  them  for  nothing.'  He  printed 
off  some  hundreds  at  his  own  expense. 

Out  of  the  innumerable  letters  written  to  friends,  after 
the  passing  away  of  Charlotte  Tucker,  three  short  extracts 
alone  must  be  given. 

FROM   THE  BISHOP  OF  LAHORE. 

*  For  the  simple  yet  always  aspiring  spirit  the  change  will  be  a 
blessed  one  indeed  !  Her  endurance  unto  the  end,  and  her  constant 
rejoicing  in  the  Lord,  have  been  a  great  example,  which  many  of  us 
need  to  follow.  ...  It  was  a  beautiful  and  consistent  life ;  and  she 
will  still  speak,  though  out  of  sight.' 


CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER  513 

FROM  THE  REV.  ROBERT  CLARK. 

'  Miss  Tucker  .  .  .  will  not  be  easily  forgotten  there  (at  Batala),  nor 
indeed  in  India  generally,  where  her  name  will  long  continue  to  be  a 
household  word,  both  for  what  she  was  and  for  what  she  did.  In 
giving  her  to  India,  the  Church  of  Christ  gave  of  her  very  best.' 

FROM  THE  REV.  ROWLAND  BATEMAN. 

'  There  is  but  one  voice  from  India,  whether  it  comes  from  Natives 
or  Europeans.  .  .  .  Do  you  know  those  lines  of  Toplady's,  beginning, 
"  Deathless  Principle  arise".'*  They  are  old-fashioned  and  out  of 
date,  i.e.  out  of  the  range  of  the  rising  generation,  but  they  are 
peculiarly  beautiful,  and  keep  recurring,  as  I  mentally  pass  through 
the  ministry  which  Miss  Wauton  and  others  were  privileged  to  offer 
to  our  beloved  Aunt  in  Amritsar.  There  is  one  touch  in  Dr.  Weit- 
brecht's  p.c.  which  may  not  have  reached  you.  He  mentions  that 
many  women  came  from  the  city,  to  wail  at  the  grave.  This  is  as  it 
should  be  ;  for  though  we  know  better  than  to  wail  or  even  weep  over 
the  grave,  in  them  it  is  but  the  expression  of  love  and  appreciation 
and  real  kindred.  Nobody — I  speak  of  non-Christians — weeps  and 
wails  except  over  relatives.  We  are  sorely  wounded,  and  our  spirits 
suffer  a  sort  of  collapse  ;  but  we  have  only  to  go  over  the  hallowed, 
holy  memory  of  her  converse  and  example,  to  feel  refreshed  and 
braced  again. 


' ' '  With  joy  and  gladness  has  she  been  brought, 
And  has  entered  into  the  King's  Palace." ' 


So  ends  the  story  of  Charlotte  Maria  Tucker ;  for  fifty- 
four  years  A  Lady  of  England,  and  for  eighteen  years 
A  Lady  of  India.  It  is  the  story  of  a  brave  and  self- 
sacrificing  life,  whether  in  her  quiet  English  home,  or  in 
the  vicissitudes  of  her  Indian  career.  I  have  done  my 
best  to  present  her  simply  and  truly  as  that  which  she  was, 
— a  very  unusual  and  noble  character,  with  of  course  some 
of  those  defects  which  are  found  in  even  the  best  and 
noblest  of  men  and  women.  Charlotte  Tucker  would  her- 
self have  been  the  first  to  deprecate  any  attempt  to  make 
her. out  a  faultless  being.  Faultless  she  was  not ;  but  she 
2K 


514  CHARLOTTE  MARIA  TUCKER 

was  singularly  true,  unselfish,  devoted,  single-hearted, 
earnest-minded,  and  loving. 

The  one  aim  perpetually  before  her  eyes  was  to  carry 
out  the  Will  of  her  Father  in  Heaven,  alike  in  the  greatest 
and  in  the  smallest  matters.  Whether  she  were  striving 
to  bring  the  Heathen  to  a  knowledge  of  the  Truth,  whether 
she  were  discussing  difficult  questions  with  a  Muhammadan, 
whether  she  were  writing  a  book,  whether  she  were  enter- 
taining a  guest,  whether  she  were  trying  to  cheer  a  sick 
friend,  whether  she  were  playing  a  game  with  little  brown 
boys, — in  any  case  she  put  the  whole  of  herself  into  the 
task  which  she  had  in  hand,  and  she  did  it  *  unto  God.' 
To  the  utmost  of  her  ability,  all  that  she  undertook  was 
done  thoroughly.  There  was  no  half-heartedness,  no 
slurring  over  of  one  thing  or  another.  Difficulties,  opposi- 
tions, failures,  discouragements,  lack  of  apparent  results, 
all  these,  instead  of  disheartening  her,  seemed  rather  to 
spur  her  on  to  renewed  efforts. 

Beyond  the  few  words  above,  no  eulogistic  ending  to 
her  Biography  is  needed.  If  her  Life  as  it  was  lived  does 
not  speak  for  itself,  mere  words  of  praise  would  be  thrown 
away.  It  is  possible  that  her  example,  in  going  out  to 
India  after  the  age  of  fifty,  will  lead  others  to  do  the 
same ;  and  if  so,  one  object  of  her  going  will  have  been 
accomplished.  That  may  well  be  the  result  in  England  of 
her  eighteen  years'  toil.  The  results  in  India  lie  beyond 
our  puny  powers  of  measurement. 


LIST  OF  PRINCIPAL  BOOKS  BY  A.  L.  O.  E. 
Published  in  England. 


Claremont  Tales,  . 

1052. 
.     Gall  &  Inglis,  . 

1853-56. 

J. 

I 

d. 
6 

Glimpses  of  the  Unseen, 
True  Heroism, 
Life  of  Luther, 
Wings  and  Stings, 
The  Adopted  Son, 
The  Giant-Killer,   . 
The  Young  Pilgrim, 
Angus  Tarlton, 

.     Gall  &  Inglis,  . 

Do. 
.     Groom,     . 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 
.     Gall  &  Inglis,  . 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 

Do. 
.     Gall  &  Inglis,  . 

1857. 

I 

0 
0 
0 

I 
2 

3 
0 

6 
6 
6 
6 
0 
6 
6 
6 

Daybreak  in  Britain, 
The  Roby  Family, 
History  of  a  Needle, 
Rambles  of  a  Rat, . 

.     Religious  Tract  Society,  . 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 

Do. 

Do.                  .        . 

1858. 

I 

2 

I 
2 

0 
6 
6 
6 

Flora,     

The  Mine,      .        .        .        . 
Old  Friends  with  New  Faces 
Precepts  in  Practice, 
Futteypore,     . 
Cottage  by  the  Stream, 
Harry  Dangerfield, 

.     Nelson  &  Sons, 

Do. 

Do.                  .        . 

Do. 
.     S.  P.  C.  K. 
.     Gall  &  Inglis,  . 

Do. 

1859. 

I 
r 
2 
3 

0 
0 

6 
6 
0 
6 

3 
6 

Idols  in  the  Heart, 
Whispering  Unseen, 
The  Lost  Jewel, 

.     Nelson  &  Sons, 

Do. 
.     Shaw  &  Co., 

2 
3 
3 

6 
0 
6 

515 


5i6 


LIST  OF  PRINCIPAL  BOOKS 


Pride  and  his  Prisoners, 

Gain  and  Loss, 

Parliament  in  the  Playroom, . 

i860. 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 
.     Gall  &  Inglis,  . 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 

1861. 

s. 

■     3 
.     0 
.     I 

6 

3 
6 

Illustrations  of  Parables, 
Shepherd  of  Bethlehem, 
My  Neighbour's  Shoes, 

.     Gall  &  Inglis,  . 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 
Do. 

1862. 

•  3 

•  3 
.     I 

6 
6 
6 

War  and  Peace,      . 
Light  in  the  Robbers'  Cave,  . 
Christian  Love  and  Loyalty,  . 
Christian  Conquests, 

.     Nelson  &  Sons, 

Do. 
.     Gall  &  Inglis,  . 

Do. 

2 
.     2 
.     2 

6 
6 
6 
6 

Pretty  Present  for  Pets, 
Silver  Casket, 

Sketch  of  History  of  the  Jews, 
Crown  of  Success,  .        .        . 

1863. 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 
Do. 
Do. 
Do. 

.     I 

.     2 
I 

.     2 

0 
6 
6 
6 

Exiles  in  Babylon, . 
Miracles  of  Heavenly  Love, 
Ned  Franks,  .... 

1864. 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 

Do. 
.     Gall  &  Inglis,  , 

•     3 
.     I 
.     2 

6 
6 
6 

Rescued  from  Egypt, 
Fairy  Know-a-Bit, . 

1865. 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 
Do. 

1866. 

•  •     3 

.     2 

6 
6 

Wanderer  in  Africa, 
Triumph  over  Midian,   . 

.     Gall  &  Inglis,  . 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 

I 

.     2 

6 
6 

Sheer  Off,       .... 
Hymns  and  Poems, 
House  Beautiful,    . 

1867. 
.     Gall  &  Inglis,  . 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 
Do. 

1868. 

.     2 

2 

.     2 

6 
6 
0 

Living  Jewels, 
Castle  of  Carlmont, 
On  the  Way, 
Hebrew  Heroes,     . 

.     Hunt  &  Co.,     . 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 

Do. 

Do. 

.     2 
2 

•  3 

•  3 

6 
0 
6 
6 

PUBLISHED  IN  ENGLAND 


517 


The  Golden  Fleece, 
Claudia, . 
Braid  of  Cords, 


Cyril  Ashley,  . 
Picture  Story-Book, 


The  Lady  of  Provence,  . 
The  Children's  Tabernacle, 
Wreath  of  Smoke,  . 
Freedom, 


1869. 

.     Nelson  &  Sons, 

Do. 
.     Gall  &  Inglis,  . 

1870. 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 
Do. 

1871. 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 
.     Shaw  &  Co.,     . 
.     Gall  &  Inglis,  . 
Do. 


1872. 
City  of  Nocross,     ....     Nelson  &  Sons, 
Silver  Keys, Gall  &  Inglis,  . 


An  Eden  in  England, 
The  Spanish  Cavalier, 


1874. 
.     Gall  &  Inghs,  . 
.     Nelson  &  Sons, 

1875. 
The  Haunted  Room,      .        .        .     Nelson  &  Sons, 
Every  Cloud  has  a  Silver  Lining ; 


s.    d. 

1  6 
26 

2  o 


3    6 

2     o 


2  6 

3  6 
I  o 
o  6 


2    6 
2    6 


2    6 
2    6 


and  five  other  Little  Books, 

.     Nelson  &  Sons, 
1879. 

.     each  0 

6 

A  Wreath  of  Indian  Stories, . 

.     Nelson  &  Sons, 
1884. 

.     2 

0 

The  White  Bear's  Den, . 

.     Gall  &  Inghs,  . 

.     2 

0 

Pearls  of  Wisdom, . 

.     Morgan  &  Scott, 
1885. 

•    3 

6 

Harold  Hartley,     . 

.     Gall  &  Inglis,  . 
1886. 

.     5 

0 

Pictures  of  St.  Peter,      . 

.     Nelson  &  Sons, 
1887. 

•     5 

0 

Driven  into  Exile,  . 

.     Nelson  &  Sons, 

•    3 

0 

The  Fairy  in  a  Spider's  Web, 

.     Gall  &  Inglis,  . 

.     2 

6 

5i8  LIST  OF  PRINCIPAL  BOOKS 

1888.  ,.    d. 

The  Hartley  Brothers,  .        .        .     Gall  &  Inglis,  .        .        .26 
Harold's  Bride,       ....     Nelson  &  Sons,        .        .26 

1889. 
Beyond  the  Dark  Waters,      .        .     Nelson  &  Sons,        .  30 

1890. 
The  Blacksmith  of  Boniface  Lane,     Nelson  &  Sons,        .        .30 

1891. 
The  Iron  Chain  and  the  Golden,  .     Nelson  &  Sons,        .        .26 

1892. 
The  Forlorn  Hope,         .        .        .     Nelson  &  Sons,        .        .30 

N.B. — The  prices  given  may  not  be  always  correct. 


LIST  OF  SOME  SMALL  BOOKLETS  BY  A.  L.  O.  E. 
Translated  into  Indian  Languages,  and  published  at  very  low  prices. 


Widows  and  the  Bible. 

The  African  Child. 

The  Fountain  and  the  Cloud. 

Let  in  the  Daylight. 

New    Way    of    Eating     Kelas 

(Plantains). 
The  Oldest  Language  of  All. 
The  Rajah  and  his  Servants. 
The  Rainbow. 
The  Brahmini  Bull. 
A  Brahmin's  Story. 
The  Rebel. 
Vessels  of  Gold. 
The  Bag  of  Treasure. 
The  Ploughshare. 
The  Intercessor. 
Gift  to  the  Caliph. 
For  Whom  is  This  ? 
Story  of  Dr.  Duff. 
The  Child  Marriage. 
The  Flower  of  Young  India. 
Story  of  the  Pink  Chaddar. 
The  Precious  Trust. 


Trees  to  be  Cut  Down. 

The  Turban  with  a  Border  of 

Gold. 
The  Twice-Born. 
Walayat  Ali,  the  Martyr. 
The  Search  after  a  Pearl. 
Story  of  a  Farmer. 
Eight  Pearls  of  Blessing. 
Flowers  and  Fruits. 
Gideon  the  Hero. 
India's  People. 

The  Mirror  and  the  Bracelet. 
The  Prophet  and  the  Leper. 
Spiritual  and  Physical  Analogies. 
Wreath  of  Stories. 
The  Two    Pilgrims   to    Kashi ; 

and  Other  Stories. 
Jai  Singh,  the  Brave  Sikh  ;  and 

Other  Stories. 
The  Wonderful  Medicine ;  and 

Other  Stories. 
Etc.  etc. 


519 


Printed  by  T.  and  A.  Constable,  Printers  to  Her  Majesty 

at  the  Edinburgh  University  Press 


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